Of Ordinary Wizards
by Delaine
Summary: Of Ordinary Wizards is about the tangled knots of enmity and having the courage to unravel them. It's about realizing you don't have the whole story when you were certain you did. Post HBP. An Albus Severus Harry fic. An AU book seven story. Complete.
1. Reflections

**This story begins just after HBP.  
I don't own a thing. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling. I'm just picking up where her last story ended.**

Please read and review.

**Of Ordinary Wizards**

Chapter 1 Reflections

After Dumbledore's funeral, Harry Potter was an emotional boggert, his moods changing color, shape, and appearance at an alarming rate. One moment he was inanely gratified to be spending a peaceful afternoon on the grass by the lake with Ron and Hermione and the next he was railing against Snape, absently yanking large tufts of grass and earth from the ground, threatening to kill the bloody bastard should he ever see him again.

Given his mood swings, he found himself wandering to the last location one might expect to find him on this of all afternoons. There were certainly places in and around this castle he had long loved that held much kinder memories: hanging out with mates in the Griffyndor Common Room, zipping around the quidditch pitch, or prowling the restricted section of the library. Let Madam Pince frown sternly and hmph to her hearts content. It was far too late to report him for detention And yet on his final afternoon as a student at Hogwarts School of Witch Craft and Wizardry, Harry chose to visit the Astronomy Tower. He'd told Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, who had joined the three of them under the shade of the Beech tree after the funeral, that he wanted to go for a walk.

"Do you want company?" Ginny offered with a small smile.

"Not really," Harry returned the smile sadly. The two of them had so little time together, and now it was over. "I just want to think for a bit." Harry gave a short wave as he turned in the direction of the castle.

"See you at dinner then, mate." Ron told him, plucking absently at bits of grass, while Hermione nodded affirmatively.

Harry ascended the familiar enclosed stairway that recent events had made seem threatening. He walked across the ancient bricks and after a moments contemplation, he rested his back against the same spot Dumbledore had minutes before the great man met his end.  
Harry pressed his spine against the sun warmed stone and tried to think of swear words that were both profane and creative enough to express the wicked injustice that had befallen the wizarding world. None but the usual came to mind, and Harry let his body slowly slide down the wall much as Dumbledore's had night before last. And much as Dumbledore's had, Harry's body began to slowly weaken from the stress of events too bizarre to be believed.

Harry shook his head as if to clear it, and shoved a frustrated hand in the pocket of his trousers. He squeezed his fingers painfully around the metal of the fake Horcrux. Harry could not reconcile himself to the unfairness of it. Dumbledore need not have been weakened in the first place. They had been on a fools errand to that bloody cave and it had brought them no closer to ending Voldemort than they had been before. At least if they had brought back a bit of the demonic bastards soul maybe the sacrifice would have been worth it. No! Harry shook his head sharply. It wouldn't have been worth this.

Harry yanked the golden locket from his trousers and stared at it accusingly. But what if it _had_ been a true Horcrux? Harry pondered, thinking of the moment when he had discovered the locket beside Professor Dumbledore's lifeless body. How would he have known how to destroy the thing without Dumbledore to help him? Harry would not know where to bloody start.He expelled a ragged sigh and tried to focus again on what the other Horcruxes might be.

"Locket, cup, snake, something Griffyndor, or Ravenclaw." came his thin lipped whisper. "Locket, cup, snake, something Griffyndor, or Ravenclaw. Locketcupsnake, somthingGriffyndororRavenclaw."

When he did find one, would the Horcrux attack if he tried to destroy it? But just finding them would be a miracle in itself. How Dumbledore found the fake locket in the cave was bloody amazing. Just figuring out that the cave opening wanted blood or the invisible chain that brought up the boat for Merlin's sake. The Headmaster had not explained how he had done any of it really. He just said all magic leaves a trail. What the bloody hell had that meant? There was so much Dumbledore hadn't had time to tell him. There just wasn't enough time. Although, Harry had to admit, the last months had been the most time he had ever spent with the Headmaster, and thankfully the young man had realized how special that time was. Harry remembered the feeling of enthusiasm that would spread through him each time he got one of those scrolled bits of parchment from the Headmaster and recognized the slightly slanted writing.

Harry had appreciated spending time with Dumbledore, it was true, but he had expected to learn more. Not that he did not see the point of learning about Tom Riddle's past. And Harry agreed with Dumbledore that the information about the Horcruxes would be key in destroying He-Who-Should-Be-Named-A...Vile... Blood-Thirsty...well, something disgusting, but Harry didn't have the energy just now to think of what. If Harry was completely honest he had expected The Headmaster to teach him how to fight. Even Ron and Hermione had thought, when Harry first told them about the lessons, that Dumbledore would teach him all sorts of hexes and curses. Maybe the Headmaster had meant to, or was going to later.

The boyhad felt pretty confident about his fighting ability last year with the D.A. He'd been confident enough to take on a band of Death Eaters at the Ministry. Of course that confidence had been put sharply in check when Voldemort showed up. There was no way around it, Harry would have been dead if Dumbledore hadn't been there. Even before Voldermort possessed him things had been pretty grim. Voldermort seemed to be everywhere at once. He had been behind Harry and then in front him... Harry paused for a minute.

"Hang on," Harry blinked into the sun, which was getting considerably lower in the sky. "Was Voldemort just apparating?" It had never occurred to him before. Was that nifty little trick as simple as what the sixth years had learned in their apparation class when they went from one hoop to another. Harry scratched his back a bit along the roughness of the brick, while working out the logic of that. But still, it was no good, Voldemort could do wandless magic. Harry would somehow have to train to fight better, if he was going to take the Dark bastard down.

Wandless magic for the love of Merlin, Harry hadn't even been able to master one non verbal spell this term. Well except for... but hold it... Dumbledore knew wandless magic. Harry had seen him do it more than once. Why hadn't he used it to save himself from Malfoy and the Death Eaters? Had he truly been that weakened by the potion? He'd had long, excruciating minutes alone with Malfoy. Couldn't the Headmaster command a last bit of his strength to accio his wand or set Harry free? He was Albus Dumbledore for goodness sake. Or why hadn't he summoned Fawkes. The phoenix was right handy at getting one out of tight spot. But the old man had just talked to Malfoy.

Even when the Death Eaters and Werewolf showed up Dumbledore was as cool as a freezing charm. He was in rare form with that manner he had of sounding completely courteous and respectful while at the same time reprimanding and in some cases insulting the other person. It was almost funny how the old man politely told the Death Eaters that he was afraid he wasn't very happy to see them, and how he reprimanded Malfoy for bringing Fenrir, the Werewolf, into the castle. And even though the blond boy had held a wand on the Headmaster at the time, he responded defensively that he hadn't invited Fenrir, as though he expected to be given detention or something.

"Old habits die hard." Harry chuckled lightly to himself, truly amazed that he could find anything funny about that one of all nights. But Harry had always admired the way the Headmaster carried himself. No mater the situation he was just so damned unruffled. The old man was facing down a group of Death Eater and a Werewolf, and he was behaving like the group had rudely invited themselves to tea. The Headmaster had been so self-assured, facing them all down with a courtly arrogance... until...Snape arrived. Harry could hardly believe it. The Headmaster, the great Albus Dumbledore, had pleaded. Harry could not for the life of him understand what had happened. One minute the old man was telling off the Death Eaters for showing up unannounced, and the next he was begging Snape.

"Severus," Dumbledore had implored in a tone Harry had never heard the old wizard use before. But why? Why had he begged Snape?" The Headmaster had trusted Snape. Didn't he just assume that Snape would try to save him. Harry had, right up to the moment the maggot had hit the older wizard with the killing curse. Harry had expected Snape to try to rescue the Headmaster. Snape may not have been successful against the group as it was three on one. Malfoy didn't count. If he couldn't kill Dumbledore, he sure as hell wouldn't have been able to kill Snape. The little ferret had been Snape's pet for six years. But none of this mattered, Harry thought, his confusion giving way to anger again. The barking old man had been wrong to trust Snape. Snape was a filthy, lying, murdering, disloyal, disgusting, cowardly arsehole. And if Harry ever saw him again he'd...

"What?" Harry questioned himself bitterly. "Get your arse kicked again?" Harry crushed the locket so tightly in his palm it began to break his skin. It wasn't true. Snape hadn't actually kicked his arse. The bloody bastard wouldn't even fight back. The only curse he threw was when Harry called him a coward. And while that whip like curse had hurt quite a lot, it didn't even leave a mark.

Snape had even stopped the big blond Death Eater from torturing Harry, saying that Harry was to be saved for Voldemort. No. What disturbed Harry was the ease with which the other man blocked his curses. It was almost as though he was idly shooing away flies,  
persistent little flies, that while irritating, posed no real threat to anyone. If the way Snape fought was anything like what it would be against Voldemort, even after Harry found the Horcruxes, the boy knew he would have to improve tremendously before he attempted _Vanquish the Dark Lord_. Harry was struck by a sudden thought.

"What if Dumbledore knew he himself mightn't get a chance to train me," Harry pondered, "what if that's why he gave Snape the Defense Against the Dark Arts post?" Harry shook himself abruptly from such thoughts. "I doesn't matter!" Harry admonished himself angrily. "Snape was a murderer all along. He was never on our side. The Headmaster was a mental old fool for trusting him so blindly. And now I still have to vanquish old Voldermort. Bloody bastard."

Harry sighed and wasn't clear whether he meant Voldemort, Snape or Dumbledore for that matter. "And I haven't a clue how to get it done." The last bit came with something of a chuckle. Harry pushed his back against the wall in a stiff attempt rise. He wondered briefly if he might be going around the bend, what with all this talking to himself and his emotions swinging from one extreme to the other.

As Harry shook out his legs and peered over the wall. He returned Horcrux to his pocket and gingerly rubbed his cut palm along his pant leg. Harry's eyes wandered over to the white tomb by the lake. By the look of the sky, and the dull emptiness in his stomach, Harry supposed it to be near dinner time. He hadn't been hungry at breakfast. And he, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had all skipped lunch coveting the calm sanctuary of the Beech tree by the lake.

Harry's eyes came to rest on Dumbledore's tomb once more. The light was getting a little funny, but he almost thought he saw the outline of a phoenix, flying just past the Headmasters tomb. Harry thought back to during the funeral when Dumbledore's body had been briefly obscured by flame and Harry had thought he saw a phoenix take to the clouds, just before the lid was placed on the tomb. As Harry speculated again if they had seen the last of Fawkes, he slowly became aware that winged form had solidified and was growing closer until Albus Dumbledore's phoenix landed elegantly on the wall of the of the astronomy tower.

"Fawkes," Harry whispered experimentally, as the boy and the bird looked each other frankly in the eyes. Tears brimmed in the phoenix's eyes two of which Fawkes shed into Harry's abused hand.

As Harry mumbled his thanks Fawkes held out the talons of one leg in which there was a scrolled piece of parchment. Harry gave a sharp intake of breath as he caught sight of the familiar slanted script.


	2. Angelth

**This story begins just after HBP.  
I don't own a thing. It's all belongs to J.K. Rowling. I'm just picking up where her last story ended. And since I was a bit depressed by where the last story ended, I have changed things a bit to suit my own needs. **

Thanks much for your reviews on my first chapter. I am new to fanfic writing, so feedback is very much appreciated.

Please read and review.

**Chapter 2 **

**Angelth**

Fawkes trilled softly as Harry took and unfurled the parchment with and unsteady hand.

_My dearest Harry,  
If you are reading this note then I am dead and there is and excellent chance that you believe Severus Snape to have murdered me in cold blood. I will caution you now, as I did during life, that things are not always as they appear. Yes, dear Harry, even if you see them with your own eyes. You will notice that on the bottom of this letter there is a small, extremely handsome picture of me._

Harry looked to the bottom of the note to see a likeness of Dumbledore that was only a little bigger than a muggle postage stamp. The little image didn't move like ordinary wizarding photos, but its colors were very vibrant and life like.

_Now Harry, you have no doubt discovered that the Horcrux, the golden locket, we retrieved from the cave was a not authentic. In truth this statement is not wholly accurate, however we will get to that in due time. You will also without a doubt have noticed that my tiny portrait does not move as other photos you have seen. I wonder, dear boy, if you can puzzle out how this mini likeness of myself can be animated?_

The letter ended here abruptly and Harry flipped the parchment over to see if there might not be more on the back. As he turned the paper back over Harry noticed a small postscript written at the bottom across from the Headmaster's image.

_I have every faith in you dear boy.  
Albus Dumbledore_

Harry removed the locket from his trousers pocket and looked from it to the photo. He tried running a finger nail underneath a edge of the tiny portrait to remove it. Harry decided that it must be held with some kind of sticking charm.

"_Finite Incantatum_." He said once, tapping the tiny representation with his wand. It slipped free into his hand, and while biting his lip Harry carefully placed the Headmasters portrait inside the locket. It stuck to the inside surface immediately, and Dumbledore's image began toapplaud in triumph.

"Well done my boy, well done indeed. Now if you were able to puzzle that bit out, you have no doubt arrived at the conclusion that our adventure to retrieve the Horcrux was something a test," Harry's face lost some of its color, but his smile at hearing the Headmaster's voice once more was brilliant.

"Yes, my boy, a task designed with the intention of testing your mettle against the many challenges you must face in the near future. It was a very clever and arduous adventure designed by a very dear friend of mine."

_"Snape?" _Harry bit out suddenly and while his voice was barely above a whisper, the revulsion was clear.

"My dear boy, do you nevergrow weary of my admonishing you as to the proper address of your professors?" The portrait questioned a bit sternly as Harry's eyes widened. "Now," the little portraiture reverted to a kindlier tone. "Are there any questions thus far?"

"I can ask ques...?" Harry sputtered. "I can talk to...you can hear me?" Harry panted, his eyes fairly glued to the tiny portrait.

"Why of course my dear boy," the Headmaster's portrait let out a low chuckle. "What ever did you think?"

"I didn't... think..." Harry stated in confusion.

"Yes, you have been guilty of that in the past," Dumbledore teased playfully. "But you are after all only sixteen." The Headmaster's eyes were twinkling. But Harry felt a slight sting of truth in the Headmasters playful criticism.

"Now, as I was saying," Dumbledore continued. "The search for Voldemort's Horcrux was an assessment of your expected performance in similar situations. And you comported yourself admirably I must say. Although, I must admit, I had not expected our adventure to be quite so debilitating, and have already thoroughly upbraided the test's designer as to this defect."

Harry looked thoughtful at this. Did that mean what he thought it did? Was professor Dumbledore talking about Snape? Was he in contact with him as well? Was Snape not a murderer? Oh but it made no sense. Harry's head began to ache dully. Harry had seen the murder with his own eyes. And Dumbledore was, after all dead.

"Are you a memory Professor?" Harry interrupted the Headmaster. "You know how all the portraits are filled with memories of the dead person?"

"I rather think I am slightly more than that," The Headmaster intoned in an amused voice.

"But how? But what...I don't..." Harry babbled inarticulately.

"Ah," the Headmaster nodded appreciatively. "With your usual cleverness, Harry, you have stumbled upon the next portion of my explanation. Now while the locket we retrieved is not a Horcrux," the Headmaster grew serious. "it is indeed filled with magic. This locket and its twin are imbued with the most powerful light magic known to wizardkind." Harry's brain stalled for a moment at the word _twin_.

"This locket you hold is called an Angelth. It is like a Horcrux in that it is used as a receptacle for a portion of a Light Wizard's soul." the Headmaster smiled amiably. "One half of a wizard's soul to be exact, and the other half must reside in an exact replica of the first Angelth. The only way for this most powerful magic to work is if the Safekeepers of the Angelths are witches or wizards who loved the deceased with all their hearts. The soul is then able to communicate with the Safekeepers, the mode of communication depending on what type of objects the deceased chose to charm with her or his essence." The Headmaster looked a bit misty at this point. "And I dare say, Harry, since you were able to animate this portrait which held half my essence you must care for me a great deal."

_Dumbledore's man through and through_. Harry thought as his own eyes began to cloud a bit.

"Now," the Headmaster cleared his throat, as you have no doubt realized you are the Safekeeper of this Angelth. To maintain the safeguard, you must keep the my Angelth on your person at all times. For as long as this portion of my soul resides in close proximity to the protection of your love it will be safe.

"It's a bit like the protection at my aunt and uncle's then sir." Harry observed.

"Yes, dear boy, It is very like that," The Headmaster smiled.

"And so the second Angelth, the other half of your soul, its being kept safe by someone who loves you..." Harry hesitated. He'd almost said as much as I do, but settled for, "someone who loves you with all of their heart?"

"That is correct dear boy."

_That rules out Snape! Harry thought with venom._

"And as I said," Albus Dumbledore reminded. "The Angelth would not have been activated otherwise."

Harry tried to puzzle that out. Maybe this had nothing to do with Snape. Snape had killed Dumbledore. He'd killed him. Lots of people loved Dumbledore, anyone could be guarding his Angelth. Maybe it was...

"Professor?" Harry questioned sharply. "Who's R.A.B.?" Harry looked on intently thinking of the note he found inside the locket when it lay beside Dumbledore's body.

"A splendid question, Harry," The Headmaster looked pleased. "That is another mystery you will be unraveling over the next few months. And I assure you that note was authentic. I found it when I sought Voldemort's first Horcrux."

_Another mystery? _Did that mean R.A.B. could be the Safekeeper of the other Angelth? _Another mystery to unravel over the next few months. _Harry silently implored that this had nothing to do with Snape. But what had Dumbledore said in his note about things not always being what they seemed.

"An that brings us quite cleanly to your instructions for the next few months," the tiny image in the portrait grew serious again. "When you leave here tomorrow you are to go to your relative's house as we agreed last summer. You need only stay two weeks and then you may go to the Burrow. In July when you come of age you will tap your Angelth once with your wand while incanting "_Portus. _This will activate a portkey which will take you to a location where you will complete your training to face Voldermort for the final time."

"Where will I go?" Harry cut in nervously.

"I am not prepared to answer that, but I will tell you that you will be trained in identifying magical trace factors. You will need this skill in locating Voldermort's remaining Horcruxes. Your training will also include mastery of non verbal spells as well as Occlumency and wandless magic," The Headmaster paused here, taking a breath. "The person I have chosen to train you has been hand-picked by me, and I trust him implicitly. I trust you will treat him with the utmost respect as you would if I personally were handling your training." The Headmaster finished a tad sternly.

As Harry pushed his hand back and forth through his untidy hair, he was quite literally biting his tongue.

"Do you have any questions, Harry?" the Headmaster asked in a measured tone.

"Maybe one, sir," Harry began nervously, still ruffling his hair. "Sorry, sir. I just can't seem to get it out of my head. Snape wouldn't have..."

"_Professor_ Snape," The Headmaster corrected, as though growing bored with this particular semantical dance.

"BUT SNAPE KILLED YOU!" Harry screamed, suddenly losing control. "HE KILLED YOU! I SAW IT WITH MY OWN EYES!"

"Harry?"the Headmaster said.

"Please, Professor..." Harry whimpered.

"Harry?" the Headmaster repeated gently.

"Please, Professor... " Harry wailed frantically" "just please tell me that Snape isn't involved in this in any way. That Snape..."

"_Mr.Potter_." The Headmaster's voice cracked like a whip, sternly whistling through the air and arriving to thrash Harry soundly, with its fiery intensity. The Boy-Who-Lived was silent immediately and the miniature image of the Headmaster fixed him with a flinty glare.

There was a lengthy silence which Harry maintained for as long as he could.

"Sir," Harry surrendered finally. "Professor Snape," The boy continued bravely. "Does he fit into this anywhere sir? Because if he does," Harry tried his best to sound respectful. "I'm just a bit confused... and concerned...about it...sir," Harry finished up lamely. Then before Dumbledore could interrupt he said, "I really do apologize Headmaster. But you can't possibly still trust him."

"I do indeed, Harry. I do indeed. And for reasons I am unable to explain to you at present, Severus training you to face Voldermort is a decision I make for the Professor's salvation as much as your own." The Headmaster let out a deep sigh. "There are so many who have sacrificed more that you realize, Harry, to assist you on this quest. And I would instruct you again to give Professor Snape all the respect you would afford me."

"But respect needs to be earned doesn't it, sir?" Harry held his breath. He had been going for a respectful tone again. He wasn't quite sure he'd been successful when the Headmaster's expression harden slightly. But it softened again immediately.

"Do you respect me Harry?" The Headmaster asked gently.

"Yes sir," Harry said quickly. "You know I do."

"Then I'm ordering you to do this thing," Dumbledore responded quietly. Harry paused a moment.

"But Headmaster...what if---" Harry began.

"Harry?"

"Let's just say--" Harry tried again.

"Harry?"

"But, Professor I'm only trying--"

"Harry," the Headmaster cut in. "When I say I would like you to treat Professor Snape with the same respect as you would me, I think I should like to amend that."

"Yes, Professor," Harry smiled hopefully

"Yes, dear boy," The Headmaster supplied evenly. "I think that I would like to request that you treat him with slightly more respect than you would me. And perhaps forgo the arguments and answering back entirely." The Headmaster finished tartly, but not without humor.

Harry was about to respond to this when he heard several sets of foot falls on the stairway.

"CanItellRonandHermioneabouttheAngelth?" He asked in a rush. At first the Headmaster seemed quite confused by the abrupt change of subject. But then answered.

"Well, at present I do not believe that is the wisest course of" theoldwizard began.

"Kay," Harry said quickly, slamming the lid of the locket shut just as Ron, Hermione, and Ginny topped the stairs.

"How rude," the Headmaster gasped just before the clasp caught. Harry shoved the Angelth into his pocket.

"There you are mate," Ron approached out of breath.

"Oh, Harry we've been looking all over for you," Hermione scolded.

"All right Harry?" Ginny asked, bringing up the rear.

"Fine. Fine," Harry informed his friends with a warm smile gripping the Angelth anxiously.

"Last place I expected to find you mate," Ron narrowed his eyes. "Sure your all right?"

"I am, Ron," Harry tried to sound convincing, while gripping the Angelth for dear life. "I've been thinking a lot," Harry offered. "I feel...better," he said finally.

"Come on then mate," Ron said, hooking an arm around Hermione's shoulder as she smiled at Harry encouragingly. "Dinner started 20 minutes ago." Harry resisted the urge to take Ginny's hand and followed his friends to the exit.

The walk to the great hall was excruciatingly long and Harry was drawn toward paranoia. What if when he opened the Angelth again the portrait no longer animated? What if he'd proven with all the arguing and back talk that he didn't love the Headmaster at all? Harry chastised himself and thought morosely that he had probably ruined what he now appreciated was the amazing gift of a second chance of sorts with the Headmaster. A chance to be mentored, and cared about and loved, and Harry had screwed it up royally.

It was with this feeling of hopeless panic that he stopped in front of the boys lavatory on the first floor.

"Just a moment guys,'" he tilted his head in a manner he hoped looked casual. "Need to visit the loo. Meet you down there." His friends for once were too caught in there own grief to be suspicious..

"We'll save you a seat," Ginny offered, touching his arm lightly.

"Don't be long," Hermione said. And Harry rolled his eyes with what he hoped was a put upon expression.

He was successful because Ron laughed. "Give the man some privacy for Merlin's sake," he said playfully to Hermione, who blushed furiously. "See ya down there mate," he told Harry as he led the girls on.

Harry stepped inside and waited a second to hear their foot falls. After taking a look into the stalls he whipped out the locket and yanked at the catch feverishly.

"Professor," he began without out preamble. "Are you still there,sir?"

"Where ever would I have gotten to dear boy?" the Headmaster inquired his eyes twinkling madly.

"It's just..." Harry began. "Sorry, they were coming. Ron, Hermione. and Ginny. Sorry about that sir."

"That's quite all right my boy," the Headmaster said in an amused tone. "I may have to get used to that I'm afraid," the Headmaster chuckled lightly.

"And about the other thing," Harry took a deep breath. "Sorry about answering back and all. And I'll do just as you say, sir," Harry nodded firmly. "Just as you say."

"Well done, Harry," the Headmaster smiled proudly. "Well done indeed."

"All right then sir," Harry's face flushed slightly. "I've got to go; their waiting for me." the Headmaster nodded. "See you later then sir?" It was rather more than a question.

"Indeed you shall my boy," the Headmaster assured him. "Indeed you shall."

"Right then, sir," Harry said quietly, and ever so gently, closed the cover of the Angelth.


	3. Hogwarts: A History Part I

**I own nothing but the clothes on my back, and a very beat up ten-year-old car. J.K. Rowling owns these characters. I'm just going to play with them for a bit. **

**Thank you all **for your kind reviews. For those of you who are wondering if this is going to be a good-guy Snape fic, all I can promise is that I'll try to keep him realistic, snarky and snide. I would have never envisioned Snape as good at all, but damned if I didn't discover fanfic about two months ago. And I guess I caught a bit of Severititus. Then I discovered my favorite two authors, Jocelyn of _Battle of Wills _and Green Gecko who wrote _Resonance_. I was hooked on the Snape has a heart and maybe and even a sense of humor thing. And, I enjoyed both of their fics more than HBP. Sorry Ms. Rowling, you're a damn fine writer as well.

**Morning is Bright**: Thanks so much for being irritated with Albus.  
It was awesome reading your long well thought out review. I'm not done discussing the Angelths and how they work. I hope I don't disappoint.

Regarding the boys not being **allowed in the girl's dorms**, in this chapter, I'm not sure whether this is from J.K.'s book or a fanfic. At any rate, its not mine, and it belongs to...whomever I borrowed it from.

I do appreciate that there haven't yet been any complaints regarding formatting thus far. Man! I am finding that difficult. I can't seem to figure out a way to fix small errors without replacing the whole darn chapter. Then I find another error. I will try to update as quickly as I can and thanks again for your reviews! Anyhow, enough jibber jabber for the love of Merlin. Enjoy.

**Chapter 3**

**Hogwarts: A History Part I**

On the last night of the year at Hogwarts, the lion's share of the student body found themselves flouting the rules. Both grief and the uncertain future of the institution made them feel immune to punishment. Students who never dreamed of doing so previously found themselves wandering the castle after curfew. The vast majority suddenly becoming aware that they could easily out run Filch, and finally believing the rumor that he must be a squib, or he certainly would have hexed them for their abominable behavior.

Students were congregating in the kitchens with house elves, nicking food, and drinking vast amounts of butterbeer. The entire populace was suddenly prone to random acts of snogging. And there was a fifth year Ravenclaw boy selling fire whiskey in the third floor boy's bathroom. Several bottles ofthe stuff foundits way into the Gryffindor Common Room.

It was in this spirit of blatant misbehavior that Harry and Ron found themselves spending the night in the girl's dormitory. It started out with Ron joking during pudding that if the school did not reopen in the fall his biggest regret would be that he had never seen the inside of the girls dorms.

"Its not like I'd have to snog anybody while I'm up there or anything"  
Ron asserted taking a large forkful of cake. "I'd just like to see what the rooms are like."

"Well thank heavens for that, Ronald," Hermione chided with grin that managed to look both impish and scandalized.

"The night's not over yet Hermione," Ron smirked, shoving more chocolate cake in his mouth and attempting to wag his eyebrows lasciviously. Hermione slapped his arm and Harry laughed out a spray of pumpkin juice, causing Ginny and Neville to howl in raucous laughter. The mood was still quite somber in patches around the great hall and the Gryffindors collected several stony looks from around the room.

"It's not fair though is it?" Ron argued, gobbling more cake. "Girls are allowed in the boys dorm," he pointed a frosting covered fork at Hermione. "But any time we try to go up to your rooms, the ruddy stairway chucks us out on our backsides."

"Well, as I explained before, Ron," Hermione giggled. "The practice comes from the fact that girls were traditionally considered more trustworthy than boys."

"Well, that's a load of rubbish that is," Ron pointed out as he ran practiced fingers across the surface of his dessert plate to lap up the last dollops of frosting.

"Well, it's far too late," Ginny joined in the entertainment. "Because while the night is not over, a silly git like you isn't clever to figure out the enchantment in a single evening."

"Did you hear that Harry?" Ron finally pushed his plate away and it magically disappeared.

"I did mate," Harry agreed amiably, standing up. "Sounds like a challenge."

"Sounds like they don't think very much of us," Ron complained, in a mock wounded tone. "And from my own sister too."

"Sounds like they don't think much of _you_ mate." Harry countered with a wide grin. "Sounds like they don't think much of _you_."

"And this is my best friend!" Ron rolled his eyes in unconvincing disgust, and the other Gryffindors laughed, getting to their feet as well.

"We'll put our heads together mate," Harry said in a playfully placating tone. "We'll put our heads together," he assured, as the group headed out of the door.

"Right," Ron agreed. "Maybe we'll go up to the library read about it in _Hogwarts: A History_." Harry, Ron, Ginny exploded in fit of giggles as they approached the second floor stairs. And Hermione, after frowning for a moment, soon joined in.

"To the library then," Harry stated dramatically as he pulled Ron off in that direction. "No, no," He told the girls as they made a move to follow. "Off you go. We'll see you later in your rooms."

Harry's mood had lightened considerably since discovering Dumbledore's Angelth and it seemed to have rubbed off on his friends a bit. It was taking tremendous discipline not tell them the news, but for some reason the Headmaster didn't want him to yet. Harry would ask him again later. Dumbledore had let him tell Ron and Hermione about the Horcruxes, why not this? He clutched the metal in his pocket, reassured by its cool presence.

"The library is it?" questioned Hermione, her eyes narrowing. "Don't forget that were not allowed to leave the castle," she scolded suspiciously.

"_Hermione_!" Harry groaned.

"And that Professor McGonagal said curfew is at 7:30 tonight," she continued.

"Fat chance enforcing that tonight," speculated two Hufflepuff seventh years as they passed the group of Gryffindors.

"Yeah," Ron chuckled agreement as the Hufflepuffs continued along to their dormitory.

"Well, there is a real threat," cautioned Neville as he joined them on the landing, still moving slowly after his run in with the Death Eaters the night Dumbledore died.

"Harry?" Hermione began.

"Hermione," Harry held up his hand. "You have my word, we are going to the library."

"Are we really going to the library then?" Ron wanted to know as soon as the group was out of earshot.

"Yeah," Harry had actually decided going to the library might not be a bad idea. "We are going to check out _Hogwarts: A History _and try to get up the girls dorms." Then he continued a bit more seriously. "And I reckon maybe I could find a few books on the stuff I need to know to battle with Voldemort."

"Right then," Ron's expression was unreadable.

Now Harry thought about this, the library really was a good idea. If he got loads of books and really committed himself to training, maybe by the time he came of age Dumbledore wouldn't insist that he train with Snape. _Snape_. He still couldn't bloody believe the Headmaster's orders. Once again Harry wished the Headmaster would explain things fully instead being so infuriatingly cryptic all the bloody time. It was obvious for some unfathomable reason the Headmaster still trusted Snape. But Harry had never had a reason to trust him. The greasy git had always been a bastard. And until the Headmaster decided to give him more information Harry's opinion was unlikely to change.

Of course Occlumency would prove even more difficult. Harry had no idea how he might manage it with no one to practice against. But maybe if he studied enough it would make a difference. He could definitely work on wandless magic and non-verbal spells. Magical trace factors also seemed like something he could learn about if he studied the right books. Hermione taught herself loads of stuff just by studying didn't she?

And Harry knew his friends would help all they could. The idea began to take root in his mind. He'd attempt to train himself with the help of his friends. Just like the D.A. Harry could use the time between now and when he came of age to really prepare himself. At which point, he would hopefully be able to convince the Professor Dumbledore he didn't need Snape because Harry had worked hard and was fully prepared. That's what Harry had planned on doing before he got the Angelth. There were tons of things Harry could learn without any help from Snape, thank you very much. What had Snape really ever taught him in the first place? All he ever did during the gruesome Occlumency sessions was sneer.

"_Clear your mind, Mr. Potter_," and complain about how unless Harry was.

But he never explained how to bloody do it. Even Dumbledore said it was a fiasco. Snape was a poor excuse for a teacher and always had been. Harry had spent his first five years in Potions being badgered and belittled and not learning a damn thing. No. Harry thought with confidence. There wasn't a thing he could learn from Snape and there never had been.  
This last sentiment made Harry stop short.

"Harry," Ron inquired as they approached the library door. "What's wrong mate?"

"Nothing," Harry said with a determined look. "Go in without me; I'll be back in a minute."

"But where are you going?" Ron asked bewildered.

"Gotta go get something."

"But 'wha?"

"Start with _Hogwarts: A History_. I'll be back in a flash." Harry yelled over his shoulder, sprinting off.

Minutes later Harry found himself outside the Room of Requirement and was pacing back and forth thinking of a place to hide something. He rushed through the door as it appeared on his third lap past the wall. Harry made his way toward the hidden cupboard, and pushing aside the cage with the five-legged bird, he retrieved the Prince's Potions text. While Harry didn't believe he had ever learned anything from Snape, he grudgingly admitted that he had learned a great deal from the Prince in a very short time.

Perhaps it would be helpful to think of them as different people, Harry mused? It did not really matter though. All he knew for sure was that he wanted that book, and since he didn't feel like explaining why, he took out his wand.

"_Reducio_" he said, tapping the book once.

The book shrunk to a minute version of itself. As he placed the tiny volume in his pocket, Harry's hand brushed against the Angelth and he felt a tiny pang of guilt. He wasn't exactly going against what the Headmaster wanted, Harry rationalized. He was simply preparing himself to the best of his ability, and hoping to convince the Headmaster he didn't need Snape because Harry had worked so hard. The Headmaster shouldn't be angry with him. Bloody hell. It might even make the old man proud.

Harry made his way back towards the library with renewed confidence. Confidence that had been dormant since his fight with Snape, now swelled with his new sense of purpose. He mused that maybe he should get some books on apparition too and test his theory about Voldemort seeming to be everywhere at once during the fight at the Ministry. As Harry thought about this he realized apparition was like wandless magic and non-verbal spells both because you used neither an incantation or your wand.

Maybe the principals of apparition could be applied to some of the other things Harry needed to learn. Perhaps he could use the three D's. Determination... and two other D's Harry couldn't think of just now. Anyhow it was worth exploring. He'd also like to find some information on Horcruxes and Angelths too. Of course that meant a trip to the restricted section...

Ron was sitting at the table nearest the door when Harry entered the room, which smelled strongly and pleasantly of parchment and leather.

"She won't let us take any books out," Ron informed Harry morosely.

"Wha-?" Harry questioned

"Pince," Ron hissed. "Says since she doesn't know who's coming back next year and she doesn't want any books to go missing."

Harry was able to stifle the rude name he was about to call her, just as Madam Pince approached.

"I'm afraid students may not borrow any books over the summer this year Mr. Potter," Madam Pince informed him tartly.

"Yes, thank you Madam Pince," Harry responded sweetly. "Ron told me," he put on a bit of a sad face. "We can still look around though can't we?"

Madam Pince nodded curtly and walked away.

"Cow," Ron said in and undertone to her retreating back. "I found it though,"he told Harry looking down at the book in front of him.

"Found what?" Harry wanted to know.

"The counter charm for the stairs up to the girls dorm," Ron grinned.

"Did you really?" Harry whistled appreciatively.

"Yep," Ron told him happily. "You just jab your wand into the bottom of the stairway and use this incantation," Ron explained pointing to the page.

"_Decendium Mobulus_," Harry read. "Well done Ron," he laughed.

"_Hogwarts: A History _eh?" Harry flipped the book shut taking out his wand. "I always wanted to read that," he informed Ron shrinking the book and placing it in his pocket with a wink.

Ron gave his friend a wide grin.

"I need you to find any books you can on Occulmency, non-verbal spells and wandless magic." Harry told his friend.

"Right then," Ron grinned mischievously, as Harry went to seek out the other categories.

**Part II of this chapter tonight or tomorrow. I hope. I hope. Keep reviewing, and I'll keep writing.**


	4. Hogwarts: A History Part II

**Disclaimer:** They are not mine. They belong to J.K. Rowling.

**Authors Notes:** Again, thanks for your reviews.

**excessivelyperky:** Do you mind if I help you pimp? For those of you who have not already done so, go and read _Grave Matters_. Read my chapter first though. _Grave Matters_ is like a one-shot on jet fuel or something. The entire sequel to HBP is there in glorious, gorgeous  
detail. I love the way Hagrid is used and also the exploration of bigotry toward the Slytherin, as well as Dumbledore's complicity in scapegoating the group. There you go perky. Put my check in the mail.

**duj:** Thanks for the editing info and spelling correction. That was darn nice of you. As for your confusion, let's see if I can increase it. I'm not sure whether your question relates to Neville being injured or Dumbledores death. First the question of Neville "moving slowly". On page 642 of HBP reference is made to Luna _helping_ Neville into a seat and how the two of them were the only ones to respond to the D.A.'s call. I kinda read Neville being helped as a hint that he had been banged up a bit. I could be reading too much into it though. I mention Dumbledore being dead and later Harry hoping to talk Dumbledore out of making him work with Snape. Dumbledore is dead, but his soul isn't, and is still giving Harry instructions via the Angelth. Hope that clears things up.  
Harry lazy? You sound like Snape.

**Chapter 4:  
Hogwarts: A History Part II**

Harry and Ron left the library one hour later having visited all but the restricted section. As they made their way back to Gryffindor tower, Ron deposited a pile of tiny books into Harry's cupped hands like he was handing over a batch of sweets.

When they entered the Gryffindor Common Room a few minutes later a stupidly grinning Dean handed them each a small glass of fire whiskey. Harry and Ron scanned the room in awed silence to find their fellow Gryffindors in various states of inebriation

"Bloody hell," Ron exclaimed, "If McGonagall were to show up here she'd have our heads." Then after thinking for a moment he asked Harry, "I'll get four shall I, so we can share with the girls?"

Harry looked around the room disconcerted. Students were alternately laughing, weeping, snogging, and napping. An unfortunate few were puking, and an elite group were managing more than one of these activities at a time.

Illegal drinking while it wasn't the worst offense imaginable, and probably common place in some boarding schools, wasn't the sort of misbehavior Hogwarts students usually got up to. Although Harry had to admit this behavior was disgustingly tame in comparison to having  
a student Death Eater running around campus all year, or a teacher murdering the Headmaster.

Harry realized that this was part of what was going on. Recent events had turned the world upside down and the students were reacting, rebelling, and grieving as best they knew how. Harry included himself in this. The stunt he and Ron had just pulled in the library was pretty  
outside of the ordinary. Harry was seized again by the urge to tell Ron about the Angelth. He wanted to tell Dean too as the boy proffered a small glass with a happily glazed expression.

"Harry?" Ron asked again mischievously. "Think I should get some for Hermione and Gin?"

"Yeah," Harry replied blankly. "Take three and I'll meet you up there. I want to go up to our room and empty out my pockets."

Ron seemed to have no trouble accepting this, and he turned back to Dean who proffered three small glasses of amber liquid.

When Harry entered the boys dormitory it was empty, but he closed the curtains to his four poster and cast a _Muffliatio_ spell as a precaution. He put his little pile of books on the bed and then carefully opened Dumbledore's Angelth.

"Ah, dear boy," The Headmaster greeted warmly.

"Good evening Professor," Harry responded. His joy at hearing the Headmaster's voice again calmed him somewhat. Perhaps he was over reacting a bit.

"Is there anything wrong, Harry," the Headmaster asked gently.

"No, sir," Harry answered. _Unless you count everyone being drunk off their arses on fire whiskey, and all the books that I just nicked from the library_, Harry thought. "Everyone is just acting a bit odd." He finally replied.

"That's to be expected I'm afraid. Everyone must grieve in their own way and in their own time Harry," the Headmaster offered sagely.

"Yes sir,' Harry answered. "I suppose that is what's going on."

"They grieve for me no doubt, but also for the loss of Mr. Malfoy and Professor Snape," Dumbledore explained calmly.

The Headmaster's words struck a nerve. Harry set his jaw tightly and took a moment to compose himself before he spoke again. He nodded his head, though it was neither in agreement or denial of the words.

"I got a bunch of books from the library, sir," He told the man. "I'm going to work really hard between now and my birthday to learn about some of the things I'll need to know to fight Voldermort."

"Excellent, my boy," The Headmaster seemed genuinely pleased. "Excellent. May I suggest Graydian Crawlenton's, _Protecting the Mind_ for Occlumency. It is a very helpful book on the subject.

"Yes sir," Harry responded. "I'll be sure I have it." Though Harry was gratified by the Headmaster's reaction, it wasn't quite what he had been expecting. It was almost as though the Headmaster had predicted this.

"Sir," Harry asked lighting upon a theory. "I have a question or two about Angelths," Harry cleared his throat. "Are you aware of what's going on even when I'm not communicating to you?"

Dumbledore paused for a moment as if weighing his response. "Now that both Angelths have been activated my only access to information is solely through the Safekeepers. When my soul was influx I had mobility and expanded awareness. I was able to view my own funeral for example and sense most peoples emotions."

"You were there?" Harry questioned in surprise.

"Oh yes dear boy. Hagrid and his brother Grawp presented a rather amusing image." The Headmaster chuckled a bit. "But now that both portions of my soul are in safekeeking, all my information is dependent upon what is offered."

"Okay," Harry seemed satisfied with this and nodded. "It just seemed like maybe you already knew about the books."

"Not at all dear boy," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "I assumed that like any good student you would wish to be prepared before lessons began. I anticipated the seriousness with which you would take your responsibilities, and am delighted my faith in you was well placed."

Although warmed by the Headmaster's praise, there was something about the words _good student_ that made Harry slightly uncomfortable. There was a bit of a subtext here that Harry couldn't quite put a finger on. Had Snape and the Headmaster discussed this very thing? Had  
Snape implied that Harry would be lazy and not take his training seriously while Dumbledore defended him. Harry could almost visualize this happening.

How many times had Harry been berated or punished for coming back after summer holidays with his assignments incomplete. Of course Uncle Vernon gave him hell and threatened to lock his trunk away any time he caught Harry _lazing about with his nose buried in those freaky books_. Of course Harry didn't share this information, and it was never taken into account when Snape had him scrubbing moldy cauldrons and called him a lazy, irresponsible dunderhead, Harry thought angrily.

"But while the Angelth only allows me access to information the Safekeepers provide," Dumbledore broke into Harry's thoughts. "It does allows me to contact you if I feel the need, and the Angelths will also signal if the Safekeepers are on the verge of breaking a vow  
either with myself or each other. This signal is a slight warming of the metal that will grow more intense if ignored.

Harry thought about this, and knew there was no way he would ever make any kind of a vow with Snape, so breaking one would never be an issue.

"So, I should wear it around my neck then?" Harry questioned. "In case you want to get to get a hold of me."

"That would be preferable," the Headmaster acknowledged. "You may conceal it with a disillusionment charm," the older wizard advised. "Are you familiar with the charm?"

"Yes sir," Harry acknowledged. His thoughts drifting to another topic.

"Professor would it be okay if l told Ron and Hermione about you and the Angelth, they kept quiet about the Horcruxes?"

"In due time Harry, in due time," the Headmaster intoned.

Harry had hoped for more of answer. In fact he was getting bloody tired of all the riddles and half answers. _Why not_? He wanted to bellow.

"Professor?" Harry questioned instead, sounding very strained. "You are going to explain to me what the deal is with Sn- er Professor Snape, and why you still trust him even after I saw him kill you aren't you sir?"

The Headmaster paused for a long moment, and Harry was afraid he was going to get told off again. "It will all be made clear to you when the time is right, Harry. I am afraid you need to be patient a bit longer." the Headmaster said eventually.

Harry so wanted to argue with these maddeningly ambiguous answers.

"Was there anything else?" The Headmaster asked kindly, but it was clearly a dismissal.

Harry clenched his teeth. _How the bloody hell do you get dismissed from a locket you are supposed to wear around your neck?_ "No sir," Harry ground out.

"Until next time, dear boy," the Headmaster said amiably.

"Good night then sir," He replied staunchly, closing the lid on the Angelth. "Bloody annoying little portrait," Harry bit out, fastening the Angelth around his neck and disillusioning it.

Harry sighed deeply and lifted himself from the bed. He canceled the_ Muffliatio_ and scooped up the pile of tiny books. He stowed them in a sock and tossed it viciously into his trunk.

Harry stormed mutinously into the common room.

"Oy 'arry," Dean called as he entered the room. "Got your drink right 'ere."

"Have you got a bottle mate?" Harry asked defiantly.

"Now you're talking," Dean slurred. "Got part of one right here," the boy proclaimed pushing a half full bottle of amber liquid in Harry's direction.

"Right then," Harry said, nodding curtly.

After canceling the charm on the stairway, Harry took the stairs to the girls dormitory two at time. He stopped at Ginny's door and knocked peeking in. Only Ginny wasn't there. But Seamus was. And he was snogging a fifth year girl who had a fat, round bottom and bucked  
teeth.

"_Hogwarts: A History_ mate," Seamus winked at Harry giving the girl's bottom a playful slap. Harry beat a hasty retreat amid girlish giggles and a proclamation.

"Ooh Seamus, you naughty wizard."

When Harry made it to Hermionie's dorm, he waited till he heard clearly drunken tittering telling him to _enter_ before trying the knob.

Hermione's dorm mates were apparently playing the comedy version of exploding snap because they couldn't stop giggling long enough to finish a round. One girl motioned to the four poster on which the curtains were drawn.

"They're in there," she choked out between giggles.

"All three of them," chortled another.

"Eew gross," sniggered the third. "They're brother and sister."

Harry decided forever more these Gryffindor girls would be known as the three Pixies.

"Hermione?" he called for a rescue.

"Harry," Hermione cried pushing aside the curtains. "Get in here," the three Pixies were near hysteria as Harry climbed into the four poster over the unconscious forms of Ginny and Ron.

"Harry," Hermione informed him sternly as she eyed the bottle he had brought with him. "You are not drinking that! Get rid of it this instant," she commanded furiously. Harry attempted to ignore her.

"What's with these two then?" he asked indicating Ron and Ginny.

"They drank some of that," Hermione informed him sneering at the bottle of fire whiskey.

"Really," Harry whistled, eyeing the harmless looking bottle. "They passed out from one glass?

"No, they began to annoy me after one glass," she informed him waspishly. "And they passed out when I hexed them."

Harry gulped.

"Now get rid of it at once, Harry," she ordered. "I can't believe you and Ron brought that foul stuff up here."

Harry looked at the bottle a trifle sadly. "But, Hermione," he began. "Can't I at least have a taste? I've never had any before and..."

The girl pulled her wand and Harry braced for the worst. With an angry flick of her hand she banished the bottle. Harry looked at his friend a bit petulantly, but the bushy haired girl crossed her arms and gave him a haughty glare.

Harry spied a small glass of the amber liquid sitting on the night table. "Was that your bit then?" Harry asked slyly reaching for the glass.

"Harry, no!" Hermione cried shrilly flicking her wand toward the night stand making the small glass disappear.

Harry chuckled. "I was only jokin'," His eyeswere full of mischief.

"You were not!" she bristled.

"Was too," he countered with an amused grin. "Just then I was. Think I want to get hexed into next week?"

"For goodness sake, Harry," she scolded her friend harshly. "You have far too much too much responsibility to think of messing about like this."

"Take it easy, Hermione," Harry still amused, tried for a placating tone. "Don't go all Jr. Death Eater on me."

"Good job Malfoy and Snape didn't bring the Death Eaters back tonight. What if Voldemort was with them?" Harry paled slightly at this hypothetical. "They'd have the lot of us." the girl shook back her hair. "I can't believe you would even think about drinking that. Really, Harry what would Professor Dumbledore think?" finally Harry looked chastened. Satisfied, Hermione leaned back into the headboard and emitted an audible sigh.

"How long will these two be out then?" asked Harry, casting about for a change of subject. "You're pretty wicked, Granger. Hexing your best friends." Harry tried to look scandalized.

"Just a simple sleeping charm actually," Hermione tried not to laugh at his expression.

"You said you hexed 'em," Harry teased.

"I was trying to scare some sense into you," she informed him with an embarassed grin.

"Good job that," Harry smiled back. Then he had a sudden thought, "Hey, want to go to the library? I was going to go back later and sneak into the restricted section and try and find some information on Horcruxes and An..." Harry caught himself. "And other stuff that  
might help with Voldemort."

"Well it's after curfew," she replied brightly. "But Harry that's a great idea. Do you have your invisibility cloak?" Harry shook his head "The restricted section..." Hermione swung her legs through the curtains, far too excited for Harry's taste. "You should have thought of that  
before. There's bound to be some information."

"Well I had Dumbledore to teach me about it then, didn't I?" Harry replied a bit irritated as he got off the bed as well.

"Done already?" the Pixies squealed in unison.

"Why didn't you hex the three of them?" Harry asked seriously. "They're dead annoying.

"Oh but it's no good to wait for teachers to tell you everything," Hermione cheerfully stuck to the topic, heading out the door and down the stairs "Loads of stuff you just have to learn about on your own. Run ahead and get your cloak," she told him. "I'll just wait for you in the common room shall I?" Harry nodded and headed off.

Hermione's words bugged him. The words reminded him strikingly of what Dumbledore had said earlier about being a good student. Harry walked up the stairs deliberately and entered his dorm. But what was the point in having a teacher then if you were supposed to figure stuff  
out on your own? Of course you had to read your text book he conceded but... This thought made Harry reflect honestly about how often he really read his text books. This year's _Advanced Potions Making_ had been one of a rare few school books Harry had truly  
studied. And he hadn't studied the book so much as the margins. Finding his invisibility cloak, he shoved it contemplatively in his pocket.

During the school year, when he didn't have Uncle Vernon to blame it on, Harry was a master skimmer, and scanner. Always relying on Hermione to point him right if he failed to grasp the finer points of something. He could understand researching things if you were  
curious about them, like he and his friends had done first year with the Sorcerer's Stone and trying to find information on Nicholas Flemell.Extra work was also resonable if one was trying to get out of working with a greasy murdering bastard like Snape. But why would anybody want to spend time doing extra work for a class at school just for the heck of it unless--the thought hit him like stunning curse as he met Hermione in the common room-- you were a _good student_. Harry remembered last year when Hermione had argued with Umbridge about the Defense Against the Dark Arts book because she disagreed with it. He also remembered this year in Potions when he had been clever enough to find a bezoar and Hermione had been clever enough to study and understand the text.

"That's what you do isn't it?" Harry picked up their conversation where it had left off before he'd gone upstairs. "study as much as can about subjects like Charms or Transfiguration to learn everything you can?"

"Well of course" Hermione gave him a look as though it were a silly question.

For some reason Harry felt slightly foolish and ashamed. Hermione's words from that day in Potions replayed in his mind now. _"You have to understand the principles this time. No shortcuts or cheats!" _Snape had called him a cheat too when he punished him for using the  
Potions book and cursing Malfoy with the _Sectumsempra_.

Harry tried desperately to push all these self recriminations out of his mind as he and Hermione exited the portrait hole to hear the bellow of Argus Filch just down the hall.

"I'll skin ya alive," he wailed as he limped-ran as fast as he could down the hall after two snickering Slytherin third years.

Harry and Hermione supressed a giggle as they threw on the cloak.

Once in the library, Harry set Hermione to begin looking for books on Horcruxes and said he was going to the front of the stacks to look up something the Headmaster mentioned recently.

"Harry," she suggested. "We should check out the main library as well and find some books on wandless magic and things. I know some good ones on non-verbal spells as well that I studied during the term."

"Ron and I already picked some out when we were hear before," He explained.

"Harry, I'm so proud of you. Your taking this really seriously," she gushed. "And you know I'll help all I can."

Harry took a moment to let his friends pride wash over him and try not to feel like a dunce. "Thanks Hermione," he said sincerely.

After forty-five minutes Harry had found one book on Angelths and Hermione had given up. Harry had spelled the cover to read _All About Defense_ and the inside to list random counter curses.

"I'm sorry Harry. I'm drawing a complete blank over here," she sounded slightly defeated as she joined him and looked at his find. "_All About Defense_," she murmured looking at the first few pages. "Doesn't look very helpful that."

"Hmm," Harry made a not committal noise. The real title was_ Angelths: Magic, Myth and Mystery_ and Harry thought it looked really helpful.

Just then Hermione noticed a short stack of books on and old wooden desk in the corner.

"Wonder if those are anything? she pondered, speaking more to herself than Harry. And after examining the stern little missive that lay a top the pile she called his name a trifle unsteadily.

"What is it?" He asked approaching

Hermione handed him the faded parchment and Harry's eyes narrowed.

_Headmaster,  
_the memorandum began  
_These books have been defiled by young Severus Snape of Slytherin.  
As this is not the first time this second year student has abused the  
books in this library, I feel it appropriate that his parents made to pay  
for replacement copies and the boy be severely punished._

_Sincerely,  
Elvira Pince  
Reference Library Witch  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

There were three volumes in all and Harry's hand shook a bit as he reached for the first, expecting to find the darkest of dark magic books. Harry jaw almost hit the floor when he saw the first title._ Protecting the Mind_ by Graydian Crawlenton. Harry quickly looked at  
the other two titles. One was called The _Nature of Prophecy_ and the other _The Light in the Darkness_. Harry flipped the one on Occlumency open to the middle. The margins were filled with a familiar cramped script.

"Hermione, I think I should take these," He told her.

"Harry your joking," she breathed. "They must be dark--"

"No 'Mione look," Harry held up the first book. "This ones on Occlumency. And besides it's one Dumbledore said was real good on the subject."

"When did he say that?" Hermione wanted to know.

"A bit ago," Harry told her non-commitally. She didn't have a chance to argue.

"Well, well," said an oily voice. "Taking things that don't belong to us are we?

Both students whirled around and stood face to face with Argus Filch, who was wearing the most evil grin Harry had ever seen on the crooked yellow teeth.

"Well many a slimey spawn has slipped my net tonight mind," the Caretaker rasped, "But darned if I didn't catch two of the biggest fish in the place. Potter and Granger," he laughed gleefully. "Caught red handed stealing books."

"Shite," Hermione whimpered.

"Language Miss," Filch tsked. "And you up for Head Girl next year too. I'm afraid you two are in for it. And without the Headmaster here to stick up for you..."

"Shut it! You vile, filthy piece of..." Harry raged. Hermione gripped his arm warningly.

"Temper, temper," cooed Filch. "No. _Headmistress_ McGonagall has never been shy about disciplining you precious Gryffindors. And she's in a right state she is. What with all the mischief you brats have been up to tonight. Oh dear no," he clicked his tongue. "She won't be pleased with you two at all..."

"_Petrificus Totalus_," Harry shouted desperately.

The Caretaker's body turned a slightly iridescent blue as he fell flat on his back.

"Oh Harry," Hermione whimpered. "Oh dear." Harry leaned over the immobile form.

"And let's not forget that the Headmaster isn't here to protect _you_ either," Harry taunted menacingly, looking into the alert, but frightened eyes. "You impotent little Squib. Not to mention that you won't have Snape's arse to stick your filthy nose up." Harry toed the  
form lightly in the ribs.

"Harry that's enough," Hermione ordered firmly. Her sharp tone releasing him from the darkness that was threatening to envelop him.

"What are we going to do now?" she questioned desperately. "We can't leave him. Oh, Harry we'll be expelled."

"Well, I wasn't coming back anyway, remember," Harry reminded her as he walked over to retrieve the three books from the desk and the one he'd found on Angelths. He shrunk them down and slipped them into his the pocket of his trousers.

"That works out for you I suppose," Hermione admitted, very near tears. "But we can't just hide him Harry, Professor McGonagall is bound to find out."

Hermione was right. McGonagall was bound to find out. And student or not, the thought of being confronted by McGonagall over this mess scared the hell out of him.

"Right then," He turned to Hermione having come to a decision. "You get under the invincibility cloak."

"But what about you?" Hermione wanted to know.

"Shush," He warned her gently. "Don't come out no matter what all right?" He told her making sure she was fully covered.

"But Harry..." she began anxiously.

"It's all right Hermione," he soothed. "You'll be back at school next year if you want. And you'll be Head Girl too if I have anything to say about it."

Harry turned to Filch and raised his wand.

"_Finite Incantantatum_," the Caretaker arose on unsteady legs looking shaky and frightened.

"_Obliviate_," the man's expression flickered briefly from confusion to menace.

"_Potter_," The man focused on Harry and purred with oily sweetness. "In the restricted section of the library. The Headmistess will be very interested to learn about this, very interested indeed." then he noticed the wand in Harry's hand. "How dare you draw your wand on me you cur," the man snapped, taking Harry by the ear. "Put it away this instant."

"Sorry sir. Sorry." Harry squeaked obediently stowing his wand in his pocket.

"I'll be reporting you for that too, I will," the Caretaker threatened happily as he led the boy by his ear.

Harry allowed himself to be lead thus, squirming appropriately and offering apologies. At one point even begging with tears in his voice not to be taken to the Headmistress. Filch was enjoying himself immensely. After an evening of being outsmarted and outrun by these brats, here was the Boy-Who-Lived at his mercy. Oh the Headmistress would be livid. He cackled with glee as the rounded the corner to Gryffindor tower. Just then the brat broke free of his grip and pulled his wand.

"_Obliviate_," Harry incanted facing him and slipping his wand quickly up his sleeve.

The Caretaker's expression made a brief excursion from confusion to anger.

"_Potter_," he sneered menacingly. "What are you doing out of out after curfew?"

"Out for a walk sir?" Harry offered doubtfully.

"Out for a walk is it?" Filch spat, latching on to Harry's now very sore ear once more. He dragged the boy back around the corner and fairly threw him at the Fat Lady's portrait. "Well you can walk around in there," the man stated venomously as Harry muttered the password.

"Yes sir. Sorry sir." Harry mumbled in falsely chastened tones allowing the portrait to remain open longer than it would have otherwise.

"At least I caught the brat before he could get up to any mischief," Filch muttered to the Fat Lady in a satisfied tone before storming down the hall.

"Oh Harry, you were brilliant!" exclaimed Hermione as she threw off the cloak an gave him a huge hug. She pulled him toward the stairs to the girl's dorms. The party had calmed down a bit in the Gryffindor Common Room and many students were either lying in undignified  
heaps snoring, or staring stupidly into space.

"Oy 'arry," Dean, the Bartender, croaked from his place on the floor.

In Hermione's dorm room the Pixie's had thankfully succumbed to sleep. They lay together in a gangly pile on the four poster amid a pile of exploding snap cards and an ever increasing layer of drool.

Hermione revived Ron and Ginny and delighted in the retelling of their adventure for the entertainment of their stunned friends.

"I thought you might be cross with me using that spell," Harry questioned at one point.

"Well, desperate times..." Hermione countered with a wicked grin. "Oh, but Harry," she laughed again. "You sounded so convincing when you pretended to be scared."

"I was scared," Harry admitted. "I had no idea if the spell would work. I've never done it before."

"No," Hermione corrected. "I mean when he had you by the ear and you were begging him not to take you to Professor McGonagall. _Oh please Mr. Filch," _Hermione began in a fairly accurate imitation of Harry. "_Don't report me to the Headmistress, sir_."

The four friends laughed hysterically.

"Oh my favorite part is when you called him a weak little Squib with his nose up Snape's arse," Ron wiped tears of laughter from his eyes. "I would have given anything to have seen the look on his face."

"Wow!" Ginny shook her head in awed way. "I can't believe you Obliterated the git. Twice."

"Nor can I," Harry admitted. "Professor Lockhart would be so proud," he said pompously. "I'd better get started on my memoirs."

"And your smile," Ginny added, hitting him squarely in the face with a pillow.

Although the pillow fight that ensued was well fought, there was no clear victor. The laughter continued until sleep overtook them, and the four Gryffindors collapsed on Hermione's four poster in an untidy heap of arms, legs, feathers, and friendship.


	5. On Privet Drive

**Disclaimer: **Mine? Nope. They belong to J.K. 

**Authors Notes: **As usual thanks for your reviews. I have a goofy question? How are you folks finding my story. I can only find it by typing in my name or the title. When you write something is it automatically archived in a C2 community or do the authors do that themselves?

**Kimi, Kimi, Kimi**: Sorry, but this isn't going to be slash.

**Chapter 5:**

**On Privet Drive**

Harry sat on the lumpy mattress, in the small room, on the second floor, in the average house, at number 4 Privet Drive, and stared at the thin, brown, leather journal for approximately the hundredth time in three days. Its inside was filled with clean cream colored parchment with roughly scalloped edges. The hard leather covering was embossed with ornate patterns. The center of which displayed a Gryffindor and Slytherin crest joined together by a tiny half circle of design, making one irrefutably part of the other.

It was the design that Harry had questioned the Headmistress about when McGonagall handed him the blank book as the students all waited on the platform to board the Hogwarts Express. Harry, along with Ron, Ginny, and Hermione stood huddled together on the far end.  
hoping they could all get on the train and escape any kind of adult attention.

Many students had not been so lucky, Harry and his friends had realized as the made their way to breakfast that morning. The accused miscreants were scattered about the castle doing various chores. Some were polishing suits of armor, while others mopped the entrance hall, to serve as morning detention in lieu of breakfast. Dean was among them, and Harry ran into him swabbing out the toilets in the first floor boys loo. He looked a bit green and told Harry he couldn't have eaten any breakfast anyhow, but Madam Pomfrey had made them all drink nutrient potion. Ginny found out later on the ride to the train that the Ravenclaw boy, after an intense interrogation had ratted out everyone he had sold his bottles of fire whiskey to. And McGonagall had sent owls home to the parents of all those who served detention.

So it was in the sincere hope that all punishments had been meted out that Harry and his friends tried to lay low at the end of the platform and willed the train to arrive. Harry tried to desperately to convince himself that it didn't matter at all if he was found out for having Obliviated Filch. _It was too late to serve detention. He didn't care if McGonagall owled the Dursley's. He wasn't coming back next year_. Harry was trying to think of more reasons not be nervous, but couldn't think of any so he started to repeat his list. _It was too late to serve detention_. Right. The only thing there would be time for McGonagall to do would be give him a telling off. The boy stopped short. Telling off was McGonagall's best thing. She'd bloody gone pro his first year, Harry mused with trepidation when the Headmistress suddenly called his name.

"Mr. Potter a word please?" She had summoned him from the opposite end of the platform.

Harry's stomach did a bit of a somersault when he saw she was standing next to Filch and she was clutching a book possessively to her chest. Had Filch just recovered his Obliviated memories and gone straight away to McGonagall? _What the hell was I playing at pulling a stunt like that? _Harry chastised himself roughly.

The day was warm and the journey to where McGonagall stood with Filch felt brutally long. Harry cast a mournful look at his friends before he set out. His feet grew heavy, his shoes seeming too big and his legs too short. He eyed the traitorous things, urging them to get a move on. Harry was for some reason reminded of the day during his first year when he'd been caught riding a broom without permission. McGonagall had made him follow her into the castle and he'd had a hard time on his eleven year old legs keeping up with her quick strides. She's stopped at a classroom and asked to borrow Wood, and for one terrible moment Harry thought Wood was a cane she would punish him with. Well that had a happy ending, he reminded himself. Maybe this will too. He stole a glance at her face and didn't like the look of it at all. No. McGonagall definitely didn't look like she wanted to discuss Quidditch. He was definitely going to be told off. Probably at great volume too. McGonagal never did do it quietly. Damn it. And the whole school was around. They'd all know what he'd done. It would be worse than getting a Howler. McGonagall had always intimidated Harry more than Dumbledore. She didn't mess about offering people lemon drops did she?

"Yes Headmistress," he questioned politely when he finally arrived. He eyed the handsome leather book still cradled to her bosom and thought for sure it had to do with Obliviating Filch at the library. It was all Harry could do to keep from babbling an apology and a confession and perhaps start bawling like a first year Hufflepuff.

"If you will excuse us, Mr. Filch," she dismissed the Caretaker with a nod. "Well, Mr. Potter, I was glad to see that you were not caught in any of last nights activities." Professor McGonagall stated sternly.

Harry didn't like the way she emphasized the word _caught_, but so far so good.

"Well I almost tried the fire whiskey," he admitted and briefly wondered if there had been verasitum in the morning pumpkin juice. "But Hermione wouldn't let me. It looked like most of the kids with detention this morning were being punished for that," he babbled. Perhaps the long walk in the heat had addled his brains? "She kept us all in line actually," Harry indicated Ron and Ginny. "Said it was a good job the Death Eaters didn't show up again with Voldemort and that we all needed to keep our heads about us." Maybe he could score a few points for Hermione, Harry thought hopefully. If McGonagall knew about Filch maybe it would count for something.

"Once again I am thankful that you have Miss Granger to listen to," the Headmistress smiled sternly. She looked extremely weary Harry noticed and he felt a strong pang of guilt.

"I am sorry," Harry began. _What the bloody hell are you on about mate? _"That everyone got up to so much trouble last night...what with ...everything else you've got to deal with." He finished sincerely if a tad uncertainly.

Harry could have sworn he saw her eyes go misty for a moment, but then her normally stern expression was back.

"Yes," she cleared her throat. "Mr. Filch tried to convince me I should take a leaf from Dolores Umbridge's book. He wanted to fill out the _Requisition for Whipping _forms. I finally persuaded him," the Headmistress continued. "That there just wasn't enough time to whip every student in the school before the train arrived." Harry couldn't tell if she was serious or not but decided she was going to be a much more formidable Head than Dumbledore.

"Mr. Filch must have been heartbroken," Harry risked in an undertone.

"I assure you he was," She replied and this time Harry was sure he saw the ghost of a smile cross her stern lips. "Now Mr. Potter," she resumed in a business like manner. "I have been informed by the Headmaster that for the time being you will be operating under his final orders."

"You were informed..." Harry's hand traveled briefly to the Angelth. "But...Oh," he said suddenly. "Did his portrait wake up then?"

"Not yet I'm afraid," McGonagall reported a trifle sadly. "No, these were final written instructions left by the Headmaster. A portion pertained to you." Harry's ears perked up attentively. "As I said he stated that for the time being you will be operating under his final orders which he stated you should be fully aware of," she paused to see if this was the case, and when Harry nodded continued. "The Order of the Phoenix is to leave you to your own devises but be available should you need us. You are to contact Arabella Figg should you wish to speak with any member of the Order," McGonagall paused. "You're clear on what the Headmaster's wishes you to do?" she questioned uncertainly. At Harry's confident nod she relaxed a bit. "He also left you this," she moved her arm and finally released the book that had been trapped against her breast. "It is a magical communication log," she handed him the thin brown leather book. "If you have any questions before your training begins you are to write them in this book and they will be answered," she stated as though quoting. "Does that make sense?" she wanted to know.

"It does," Harry admitted tentatively taking the book. "But who will answer?"

"I've no idea Potter," she eyed the boy carefully.

Harry examined the book gingerly. It was a blank journal with parchment style pages. The stiff brown leather cover was quite fancy Harry noticed. And then he realized it was the Gryffindor and Slytherin crests joined together like a Venn diagram.

"What's this about then?" he asked, a tad breathlessly tracing the design with a finger.

"I don't know Potter," her eyes narrowed. "I thought you might be able to shed some light"

But he had not been unable to shed any light.

And he still wasn't able to shed any three days latter. In fact as he sat on his lumpy bed at Privet Drive all he was able to shed was dark. And it was a brooding, fretting dark as he thought about who would answer his questions on the other side of the book.

Harry had spend most of his first three days back on Privet Drive in his room. His relatives were being so nice the first day it was sickening. It took Harry aboutfive minutes to realize that Uncle Vernon wanted to get his greedy hands on Harry's inheritance from Sirius. They had both been urging Harry to sit down for a bit and tell how his year had gone. Aunt Petunia had set out tea and chocolate biscuits,which Harry refused to touch. Finally Uncle Vernon commented on it in what he imagined was a teasing friendly way.

"Come on boy," Uncle Vernon said as though we were old chums. "Petunia paid good money for those biscuits. What will we do with them if you don't eat up?

Without meaning to say it out loud, Harry suggested politely that perhaps Uncle Vernon might enjoy shoving them up his fat arse. Vernon's response was to cuff him soundly about the head while calling him an ungrateful freak and order him to his room. And things had gone back to normal. His second day had passed with neither human contact or food. Then this morning Aunt Petunia had started feeding him again. As she shoved the toast and orange juice through the cat flap in the door, Harry heard Uncle Vernon complain.

"Let the freak buy his own food with his bloody inheritance."

"Now, Vernon we can't completely starve the boy, or those freaks will be all over us. You remember what the tall one said, it's only till his birthday," she said in a tone meant to soothe. "I taught him a bit of a lesson yesterday his stomach stayed nice and empty. And there'll be no more food till tomorrow. All right Dear?" Uncle Vernon gave a low growl.

It was one of the few times Harry felt he had earned the man's wrath. Though Harry really hadn't meant to say it aloud, it was a terribly disrespectful thing to say. Not that Uncle Vernon hadn't started it with all his clumsy arse kissing. But still Harry wished he'd kept his comments to himself and saved himself the grief. He felt a bit like he had after Obliterating Filch. True both of the gits had it coming, but still Harry felt a bit bad. A part of him wished McGonogall had found him out. At least then he might be able stop thinking about it.

But McGonagall hadn't found him out. Instead she'd given him this ruddy journal and he'd spent and over abundance of time thinking about it as well. Harry wasn't sure exactly what freaked him out so much about the journal. True the overwhelming certainty that Snape would be the one he was communicating with was cause enough for discomfort, but actually it reminded him a bit too much of Riddle's diary.

Would this book work the same way. Would Harry be sucked into the book to see the answer to a questions? Would Snape be there leading the way? Harry didn't know and wasn't anxious to find out. Harry had been brooding over the journal for the better part of an hour and hoping Aunt Petunia might relent and bring him dinner when he fell into shallow restless sleep.

**Coming Soon:**

**Dark Dream**

"You will be silent boy!" Snape bellowed. "During the school he began cheating as a matter of routine in Potions class using one of my old texts." Snape continued. "He used the same text to begin performing dark spells. Yet he was apparently too idiotically thick to find how damaging they were first. The end of this year he altered another human beings memory and called him an "impotent, little Squib". And you heard the way he spoke a moment ago. What will our golden boy do next Albus? Start referring to Granger as a "filthy Mudblood" and put Weasley under the Imperious?"


	6. Dark Dream

**Disclaimer**: J.K Rowling owns these blokes. 

**Authors Notes**: I am certainly enjoying your reviews. Thanks so much for taking the time. **I am going to Ireland next week, so it might be a while until I can update again. **I'm going to go back over the previous chapters and polish them a bit. I'll clean up as many errors as I can.

**allegratree**: Thanks very much for your review. I so agree with you about typos being distracting. I've actually stopped reading a fic because the errors were so numerous. Please don't do that. I promise I'll get better. Tell me more about this beta thing. I've seen where people thank their beta readers at the beginning of their fics. Is it just someone who proofreads for you?

About the dialogue, narrative issue, I'm playing around with interior monologue and haven't quite perfected it yet. If you have any specific examples about how to do this more effectively, I'm not too proud for a tutorial. I'm a bit like Harry in Occlumency. I need things explained. You can't just tell me to _clear my mind_. Point me to a fic that you think does this well and I'll take a peek.

As to Harry's overuse of the term "Bloody Bastard", I couldn't agree with you more. Harry should have a wider range of creative insults. I'll get right on that. Foul Fu--er, doesn't seem like something he'd say. Beastly Bugger doesn't quite work either. I was trying hard not to use Greasy Git because J.K. overuses that one IMHO. Anyhow, thank you much for your kind and helpful words.

**duj**: Harry nosy? Stop channeling Snape this instant. Thanks for continuing to read. I read one of your fics by the way. Loved it.

**The dream sequence at the beginning of this chapter is in bold italics. There is a scene where Harry almost gets caned. It's pretty mild I think, but if you are offended by such, I'll see you in Chapter 7.**

Once again for your viewing pleasure...

**Chapter 6:  
Dark Dream**

**_Harry's breath came in ragged gasps. His green eyes were wet with unshed tears of shame, having just quit the cruel embrace of the Legilimens._**

**_"What did I tell you about the use of dark spells Potter?" Snape demanded, his voice dripping with venom, and as angry as Harry had ever seen him._**

**_They were in a small, drab office with a large oak desk between them. In the confines of the dream Harry realized vaguely that he was uncertain of where they were. But there was one thing he did understand for certain. Snape knew. Had seen it all in Harry's mind. The Petrificus Totalus and the two Obliviates that followed. Snape had seen him toe the Caretaker menacingly and threaten that the man didn't have Dumbledore to look out for him anymore. He had seen Harry call the frightened man an impotent little Squib_**

**_"I didn't use one," Harry defended himself in high pitched desperation. "I didn't use a dark spell,"_**

**_"Don't be dense boy," the older wizard spat. "You're turning out to be quite the dark little wizard aren't you?" he sneered derisively._**

**_"I'm not," Harry cried angrily. "Obliviation isn't an Unforgivable. You're just ticked because I picked on your little pet Squib!" Harry found a sneer of his own._**

**_By the time Harry had replayed the words in his head, he realized he had made a mistake. However, Snape's reaction was not the rage he had anticipated._**

**_He addressed a figure in the shadows. "The boy does not understand darkness, Albus," Snape explained, a trifle sadly. Harry whipped his head around quickly to see the Headmaster standing in the corner wearing an identical expression to that of Snape. When had he arrived?_**

**_"Serverus there is still time," the Headmaster admonished despairingly._**

**_"He grows worse every day," Snape began decisively. "And it cannot be allowed to continue," he declared in a tone beyond negotiation._**

**_"It will not be allowed to continue, Severus," Dumbledore pledged with confidence. "You will teach him."_**

**_"The child is almost beyond our grasp, Albus. Why in this year alone...shall I give a recounting?" the tall, dark wizard counted on long, pale fingers. "The end of last he attempted the Cruciatus Curse ."_**

**_"She killed Sirius!" Harry cried out._**

**_"Silence boy," Snape spat. "After that he destroyed your office in a fit of rage..."_**

**_"But..."_**

**_"The beginning of this year he verbally attacked Narcissa Malfoy at Madam Malkin's."_**

**_"You should have heard what that bloody bitch said to us" Harry shrieked. "This hasn't got a thing to do with anything."_**

**_"You will be silent boy!" Snape bellowed. "During the school year, he began cheating as a matter of routine in Potions class using one of my old texts." Snape continued. "He used the same text to begin performing dark spells. However, he was apparently too idiotically thick to find out how damaging they were first. At the end of this school year, after committing grand larceny in the library, he altered another human beings memory and called him an impotent, little Squib," Snape's lips curled distastefully around the statement. "And you heard the way he spoke a moment ago. What will our golden boy do next, Albus? Start referring to Granger as a "filthy Mudblood"and put Weasley under the Imperious Curse?"_**

**_"Severus," Dumbledore began. "While Harry's actions are disturbing, the darkness has not yet claimed him."_**

**_"Yet. Headmaster. The boy grows more powerful and more negative each day. You are dangerously lenient with him in some ways and foolishly hard on him in others. If you do not alter your actions you will lose him, Headmaster. You will have created three dark wizards in your efforts to protect your precious light." In his passion to make his point. Snape quickly realized he had gone to far. The silence seemed to last an age before the Headmaster finally spoke._**

**_"I did not create Voldemort, Sererus," the Headmaster spoke in a low voice that was full of anquish._**

**_"No Headmaster of course not," Snape amended quickly, deeply ashamed to have wounded his mentor. "I only meant..."_**

**_"And Harry is not truly dark," he continued. "Nor has the darkness fully claimed you, child. I trust you Severus," Dumbledore's voice had regained its normal gentleness. "I trust you to lead Harry through the night."_**

**_"Look, Headmaster," Harry appealed to the older man. "He told you all that stuff I did, but he didn't tell you what they did..."_**

**_"No, Harry he did not," the Headmaster acknowledged. "I do not need to hear how you feel you were provoked into each of those actions. As I told you in your second year after you had battled Riddle and won, It is our choices which define us. I refuse to risk another child to this darkness," The Headmaster finished, looking pointedly at Snape. "I leave it to you Severus," The Headmaster said heading toward the exit._**

**_"Where shall I begin Headmaster?" Snape questioned the departing figure snidely._**

**_"You say I have been to easy on him, Severus, and upon reflection I am forced to agree. Punishment for his actions might be in order..._**

**_"Punishment," Harry broke in. "Headmaster wait...no...you can't be serious..."_**

**_"What sort of punishment?" Snape questioned the old wizard ignoring the interruption._**

**_"I leave it to you dear boy," the old man said, raising his hand in farewell. "Something severe I should think," the Headmaster suggested as he passed from view._**

**_"Bloody fine," Snape complained in a low, resigned voice as he stared at the desk top. "Leave it to me."_**

**_"Would you like to borrow wood?" said a voice from the corner. Harry turned sharply to see Professor McGonagall. She was offering Snape a long nasty-looking cane._**

**_"No Professor don't give him that," Harry pleaded with her. "Wood's a person, not a cane. He was the Keeper for our Quidditch Team. Remember? I only thought he was a cane." Harry said a tad desperately as Snape accepted the object._**

**_"Thank you Minerva," Snape told her in a dispirited voice._**

**_"Whatever did you mean by it?" she asked Harry in a morose tone, heading out the way Dumbledore had gone._**

**_Somehow her quiet disappointment was much harder to deal with than a harsh scolding. Harry turned back to Professor Snape, who was still examining the desk and clutching the cane tightly._**

**_"Please Professor," Harry began sincerely. "I'll do better. I promise. I won't turn dark. I'll be..." Harry began to experience an odd warmth in the center of his chest. While it wasn't an unpleasant sensation it was a bit disconcerting. The warmth was increasing gradually and seemed to be concentrated on one small circle of flesh._**

_**"Professor something's..." He began, in a bewildered tone as he touched the area with a tentative finger and awoke with a start.**_

Harry sat bolt upright and shook his head like a wet dog with water in its ears. The first thing he noticed was that it was now daylight outside. And he closed his eyes painfully against the morning sun.

"What the hell?" Harry mumbled touching the warmth at his chest. It took him a moment to realize Dumbledore was summoning him with the Angelth.

"Wonder what would happen if I ignored it," Harry pondered aloud, not sure if he was anxious to speak to the Headmaster after dream Dumbledore had just given dream Snape free reign to punish him severely.

"Bloody hell!" Harry hissed, as he ripped open the Angelth, which had suddenly turned white hot.

"I beg your pardon?" the Headmaster admonished, in a scandalized tone.

"I'm sorry, Professor. It's just...Ow...Ouch..." Harry whimpered as he touched his sore chest. The pain was quickly abating now that he had answered the summons. Harry slipped on his glasses.

"Do you control the temperature in this thing?" Harry asked in a wounded, accusatory tone.

"No dear boy. As I explained, you do. When you answer immediately there is little or no discomfort. It should not have become that unbearable at any rate. I only summoned you a very short while ago." The Headmaster narrowed his eyes. "Unless of course you made a conscious decision to ignore the summons. The Angelth then increases to maximum temperature immediately."

"Your design?" Harry smiled ruefully and quirked an eyebrow, as he tried push the dream aside, and settle in for chat with the Headmaster.

"I knew what nature of stubborn wizards I was entrusting the Angelths to," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling amusedly. "But listen here, Harry," the old man said a trifle sternly. "You are not to ignore my summons unless it is a dire emergency."

"I wasn't," Harry muttered petulantly. "I just woke up. Had an awful dream."

"Was it Voldermort...?

"No sir. Just a dream," Harry assured him quickly. "Bit of a nightmare actually. And I just wondered aloud, still kind of sleepy like," Harry yawned widely and scratched himself as if to prove his point. "Just wondered what would happen if I ignored the signal."

"Well I do not wish to be ignored." the Headmaster quipped amiably.

"I've worked that out, thanks," Harry smiled, rubbing his chest for affect. But the pain had completely dissipated.

"What was your dream about?" The Headmaster asked with concern.

"Well you were in it and so was Sn- er- Professor Snape. And you both thought I was turning into a dark wizard, so you gave him permission to punish me severely. Then old McGona-er-Prof, that is to say Headmistress McGonagall showed up and offered him a ruddy cane." Harry looked a little embarrassed. "See it's not just him I do the name thing with, and usually I don't mean any real disrespect," Harry explained.

"Duly noted," the Headmaster nodded. "Did you deserve to be punished in your dream?" the Headmaster asked curiously.

"I _guess_ so," he replied chagrined. "I had said something really terrible. But it wasn't to any of you," Harry explained quickly. "And if you don't ask me what it was, I promise to never say anything like it when I'm awake."

"It is a Bargain," the Headmaster smiled. "And did Professor Snape use the cane on you?" Dumbledore wanted to know.

"No," Harry admitted with some relief. "The Angelth woke me up," Harry explained.

"Rather fortuitous," the Headmaster intoned, his eyes twinkling.

"He would have though. I think." Harry stated. "He didn't look too happy about it though.. Which should have really tipped me off it was a dream because if you gave Snape permission to thrash me with a cane, he would have been absolutely gleeful. Don't you think?" Harry said, smiling innocently.

"It would be something anyone who has come to know you well would have reason to fantasize about occasionally." the old man teased. "Why did your one comment cause us to think you were turning into a dark wizard?"

"Well Professor Snape put it together with some other stuff I had done and said all of it combined proved I was becoming dark. The comment was the last straw I guess. Some of the things on the list were worse that others," Harry explained. "Like he mentioned me trashing your office. Said you were always dangerously lenient with me. I actually can't believe you let me get away with that one myself," Harry admitted with some embarrassment.

"Nor can I," the Headmaster agreed. "Phineas Nigellus will never tire of rebuking me for my handling of the situation. He thinks at the very least you should have been hung up by your thumbs."

Harry winced slightly. "Well, there really was no excuse was there?" said Harry chastened.

"All is now, and already has been, forgiven, Harry. Perhaps your dream provided an opportunity for your subconscious to reveal a few things you have done that you are ashamed of," The Headmaster stated in an advisory tone. "If you are unhappy with past actions my advice would be to endeavor to do better in the future."

Harry nodded his head slowly. That's exactly what he had told dream Snape. That he would do better.

"Now, how are your studies coming along?" the Headmaster changed the subject.

"Well, not so good yet," Harry admitted, feeling a bit on the spot.

"I see. And why is that?" the Headmaster wanted to know.

"Well for one thing, I shrunk down the books I got from the library. They fit in my trunk really well that way," explained Harry, deftly skirting the truth and feeling a bit guilty for it. "Anyhow, now I've got home I can't change 'em back without magic."

"I see," the Headmaster intoned. "And what attempts have you made thus far to rectify this situation?" the man asked, all business.

"Well," Harry began lamely . "I supposed I haven't gotten much past the _realizing_ it stage."

"You've been home three full days," the Headmaster pointed out. "You are about to embark upon your fourth. What have you been doing with yourself?" The Headmaster's words were more curious than stern, but the message was clear.

"Well I haven't left my room since the first day," explained Harry, relieved to have come across a legitimate excuse.

"And why is that?" the Headmaster wanted to know, his attitude expertly changing from one of admonishment to concern.

"Well, I was ordered to my room as punishment on my first day home for saying something rude to Uncle Vernon." Harry explained.

"It would seem you have spent an inordinate amount of time being punished in both your sleeping and waking hours for your failure to hold your tongue." Dumbledore quirked a stern eyebrow.

"And Aunt Petunia enjoys starving me on top of any punishments, so I haven't had anything since a bit of toast and juice yesterday." Harry loathed playing the sympathy card, but he really couldn't stand the thought of being scolded after the intensity of his dream.

"You mean to say," the Headmaster questioned in a low voice. "You've been denied food and confined to your room for three days?" the older wizard looked quite distressed.

"Yes sir," Harry thought perhaps he had overdone it. "It's all right Professor," Harry tried a bit of damage control. "This is pretty tame really."

"It is most certainly not all right, Harry," the Headmaster stated definitively.

"No. Wait," Harry tried again to diffuse the situation. "I could probably get out now." Harry got up to try his bedroom door. "Yea," he told the Headmaster. "The door's unlocked, so I'll get started on everything this morning."

"You mean to say you are generally locked in?" Dumbledore asked in disbelief.

"Look sir," Harry began morosely. "I shouldn't have said anything. I was only trying to avoid being told off for not studying. I mean, it's all true. I wouldn't make up such a thing, but ordinarily I wouldn't have mentioned it. Don't worry about it really. I'm used to it."

"Well it is certainly a very valid excuse for not having begun your studies," Dumbledore made and effort to sound calm.

"Yes sir, but as you pointed out I should attempt to _rectify _the situation," Harry stated with comic determination giving the air a little punch.

Dumbledore smiled indulgently.

"Here is how you will rectify this particular situation," Dumbledore began patiently. "You will go downstairs and apologize to your Uncle for disrespecting him in his own home,"

"But..." Harry began.

"I have no doubt his behavior was abominable, Harry. But you may have chosen to react as though he had treated you with the utmost respect. And in turn chosen to treat him as you wish to be treated. As I told you once long ago, it is our choices which define us."

"Whoa," Harry intoned in a low voice. "That is exactly what you said in my dream when I was trying to explain why I did all those horrid things."

"The themes do seem related," The Headmaster continued. "After you have apologized to your uncle, you will graciously ask your aunt for breakfast. If she refuses, behave as though she did not, and offer to make it yourself. When you have finished clear your place, thank your aunt for a delicious meal, and wish your uncle a pleasant day at work," Dumbledore finished with a flourish.

Harry laughed. "You make it sound simple."

"It is simple my boy. I insist you try it," The Headmaster said with clarity.

"Now, last but not least. Before you go and fill your stomach, and tackle the problem of how to transfigure your books, I must ask if you if you have any questions regarding the communications log given to you by Professor McGonagall."

Harry had almost forgotten the thin leather journal. He paused for a long moment. "Well, Snape is on the other end right?'

"He has an identical book," the Headmaster explained choosing to ignore Harry's usual lapse in proper address. "With the exception of the house crests being reversed."

After a slight pause, the boy voiced his greatest fear in a bit of a rush. "I'm not going to get sucked into it like Riddle's diary am I?"

"My, I should hope not," the Headmaster stated in an amused tone. "What you write in your book will appear in his and vice versa. For example if you were not able to figure out a satisfactory solution as to how to transfigure your books without alerting the Ministry, you might write him and he could offer a suggestion."

"Right," Harry cleared his throat, and looked down pretending to read from the log. "Dear Dunderhead," He sneered, doing a fair impression of Snape. "If you were not such an imbecile..."

"Your humor is neither amusing nor appropriate," The Headmaster chided, covering a substantial grin.

"Dead accurate though," Harry said, holding up the leather journal. "it's written right here," Harry said, pointing at a blank page. Spelled Imbecile with and E," the boy smiled.

"I shall chalk you're silliness up to a severe lack of food." the old wizard said kindly. "And shall therefore hasten you to amend the situation with all due speed," said the Headmaster, his eyes twinkling madly.

"All right then," Harry chucked. "See you later sir," he said, closing the Angelth.

Harry decided the best way to handle the Dursley's as Dumbledore suggested was to pretend to be the Headmaster. While the boy took a quick shower he concentrated on the mild, courtly aura that was so distinctly Albus Dumbledore. If the Dursley's said something horrid Harry would say something genial in return. Harry thought back to how the Headmaster had behaved when he'd come to fetch Harry at the end of summer. He'd invited himself into the sitting room in the most courteous fashion, and bid the Dursley's to join him in a glass of mead in their own home.

It had been all Harry could do to keep himself from laughing aloud as he watched his relatives allow the glasses to float around and smack them around their heads. He remembered the Headmaster explaining in a bewildered tone that the more courteous choice would have been to simply take the drinks. Now Harry thought about it, that was exactly what he should have done with the chocolate biscuits. Chocolate biscuits were his favorite. He should have eaten the lot. Then he should have told his uncle that there really wasn't anything he cared to discuss about his inheritance and thank him kindly for the treat.

That's what he would do, Harry thought, as he headed down the stairs. He would pretend to be Dumbledore and get himself some breakfast. And if that didn't work, he thought ruefully, perhaps he'd pretend to be Snape.


	7. Number 10 Privet Drive

**Disclaimer**: I don't own 'em; J.K. does.  
**Authors Notes**: Thanks very much for your reviews. I always enjoy reading them. It feels like it has been a while, but my vaction to Ireland was amazing. **Allegratree:** Thanks for the email encouraging me to update soon. I hope you all enjoy this chapter. 

**Chapter 7 **

**Number 10 Privet Drive**

Harry sat at a metal-legged kitchen table, puzzling over an ancient leather bound volume, which detailed the properties of wandless magic. A plump, orange cat looked on with him, and every once in a while placed a big paw on the page. The boy had nicknamed her Hermione because she had taken up the habit of watching him while he studied. She would often meow critically, as though she disagreed with the comments he wrote on colorful Muggle post-its with a ball-point pen as opposed to a quill. He stuck these notes along the margins as he questioned the text as to what the devil it was on about. Harry stroked Hermione's fur absently as he reread a particular paragraph for the third time, slowly moving his lips as he struggled for comprehension.

Mrs. Arabella Figg, of Number 10 Privet Drive, called all of her little felines, _Cat_. Although she had a special tone for each, it still amazed Harry that the little animals seemed to know when they were being addressed.

"Down then, _Cat_," she told Hermione, and placed a plate of ginger biscuits on the table in front of Harry.

"There you are dear," Mrs. Figg said sweetly, and briefly lay and age worn hand on the boy's shoulder. Harry, the old woman, and her many cats had established a pleasant routine over the past week or so. The woman treating Harry as though he were a favorite nephew visiting for the summer.

Harry had taken to coming over each day after breakfast at the Dursley's to study at Mrs. Figg's table, under the watchful, hazel eyes of Hermione. At about half twelve or one o'clock, Mrs. Figg would serve him a lunch of sandwiches, and soup made primarily from the vegetables grown in her vast back garden. A bit after lunch, as he continued to study, she would serve him biscuits, of which ginger were fast becoming a favorite.

Harry would often offer to help her with a chore or two before heading home to the Dursley's, where he would sleep for a few hours before dinner. This was much to the irritation of his uncle and aunt, who Harry found it ever more simple to suffer in a calm, gracious silence because he went directly back to bed after having eaten. He would remain there until half eleven, when he would sneak out of the Dursley's and return to number 10 Privet Drive to practice spells and hexes till first light.

That first day, Mrs. Figg had been delighted when Harry had turned up at her door unannounced explaining he needed to do a bit of magic. Harry had decided that since Mrs. Figg was a Squib, any spells cast in her home could easily be blamed on a magical relative or friend. The boy recalled what Dumbledore had once mentioned about the Ministry not being able to tell which individual was performing magic in magical households. With this thought in mind, Harry had slipped his miniaturized books into the pocket of his jeans and paid a visit to his one time baby-sitter who lived down the street at Number 10.

Truth be told, Harry was extremely surprised to find out just how magical a household Mrs. Figg ran. For all intents and purposes, Number 10 seemed to be the Privet Drive headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. Harry watched with great fascination, that first day,  
as Order members flooed back and forth through the hearth in her kitchen. They were pulling shifts guarding the Dursley's home and surrounding neighborhood from Voldermort and his Death Eaters. Mrs. Figg confided to Harry that the Order seemed to have stepped up protection efforts, and the fireplace in her little kitchen was busier than it ever had been the previous summer.

As Harry had sat at the kitchen table with his books now transfigured but still untouched, he toyed with the idea of making Mrs. Figg's his headquarters as well. It would do no good to only read books if he couldn't practice what he learned, and he thought Mrs. Figg's house might be just the answer. He ran the idea past Mad Eye Moody, who flooed in at about noon and was preparing to disillusion himself near the front door, before taking up his post at the corner by the Coin-Op Laundry.

"I'm afraid not Potter," Moody vetoed the idea immediately. "It's all right for you to hang about here today and a bit now and then. But it would be dangerous to set up a schedule anyone could follow. This house just doesn't offer the protection of the wards Dumbledore placed around your aunt and uncle's home," Moody explained. "It would be safer with you moving around the neighborhood even. Here you'd be a stationary target with no protection in place."

Although it admittedly made sense, Harry wasn't quite ready to give in yet. He made himself comfortable at Mrs. Figg's kitchen table and tried to decide which book to begin with, as Order members came and went. That afternoon Harry saw Tonks, Lupin, the Weasley twins, and Headmistress McGonagall. They all, save Fred and George, seemed to agree with Moody's assessment about the dangers of spending too much time at Number 10. The twins advice had been to figure out a way to do it without anyone finding out. They promised to put there heads together over the problem.

McGonagall had spoken to Harry the longest when she flooed in for her shift. She admitted that his idea had merits, but still agreed with Moody. She also had a question or two regarding the books from which Harry was studying, being aware of the Librarian's edict regarding loaning books over the summer. The boy was forced to confess, under her ever so stern gaze, that he had nicked them from the library. He was quick to point out that Headmaster had requested he study hard until his official training began, but neglected to mention that it was after he had already taken the books. After extracting a promise that he return all the books in the condition he found them, and issuing a stern admonishment that he put the books to good use, the Headmistress let the issue drop.

That first day, however, Harry had not put the books to much use at all, good or otherwise. After scanning the various volumes, each more daunting than the next, Harry did little more than attempt to decide where to begin. Although it was rough going and getting late, Harry was loathe to give up before making more significant progress.

Despite the fact that the idea to study had initially been Harry's, it was evident that Dumbledore now expected it, and was apparently going to be asking after his progress. McGonagall probably would be after him as well now, Harry realized morosely. Also with so little to show after so many hours, Harry was doubtful of his ability to convince the Headmaster that he wouldn't need to train with Snape when the time came.

Harry picked a book at random. It was called, _**Emotion Perimeter Protection Wards and Wandless Magic**_. After deciding he might be able to concentrate better outside, he went to sit on the back garden steps. Mrs. Figg was kneeling on a cushion, pulling weeds. In a classic act of task avoidance, Harry placed the book on the steps and asked if he could help. Having been forced to do a great deal of gardening by Aunt Petunia over the years, Harry took obscene pleasure in banishing the green, stringy invaders with a flick of his wand.

One side effect of using magic in a garden was the appearance of the Gnomes. About an hour later as Harry sat on the porch reading, about ten of the stout, little people slipped under the fence and took up residence in the tomato patch. Unlike Mrs. Weasly, Mrs. Figg was pleased when theGnomes showed up, explaining that they reminded he happily of her girlhood, when her mum kept a large garden full of the little people who were known only to inhabit magical gardens. The woman walked through the back door singing pleasantly to herself after welcoming the Gnomes to her garden.

Harry turned his attention back his book. It detailed, in language Harry could surprisingly understand, how to construct perimeter wards around houses and buildings by concentrating on an emotion connected to certain person. These wards were more effective when you concentrated on positive emotions, the book explained. Despite the proven strength of such wards, the author stated, these sort of wards were traditionally undervalued due to there heavy reliance on emotions such as love.

They worked well for family homes, the text explained. One individual could create the wards, or several family members could do so by concentrating on how much they loved or respected someone. Only those who felt equal love or respect for the individual could enter the warded area. Harry wondered briefly if this was the type of protection the headmaster had created at his relatives house, but then dismissed the idea because it sounded too easy. The wards the book described, sounded like something Harry felt he could construct.

Extremely pleased to finally have read something he could understand, Harry decided to attempt to create an Emotion Perimeter Protection Ward on Mrs. Figg's property by concentrating on his love for Dumbledore.

Harry sat down cross-legged on the steps, and opened the book in his lap. The text wasn't particularly specific, but Harry followed his instincts and began by focusing on Dumbledore's face and then the perimeter of the property. After allowing himself a deep breath, he closed his eyes lightly, and spread his arms out to his sides. Harry could clearly see the Headmaster's face, eyes twinkling madly beneath half moon spectacles. The young wizard imagined himself harnessing the love he had for the old man, which somehow felt like it was housed deep in the center of his chest. The boy then focused on his magic, which he was surprised to sense as coming from roughly the same general area as his love. He imagined pushing both energies out of his body anddown the length of his outstretched arms. Harry felt the energies, rope-like, as they careened out toward the perimeter of the Figg property, weaving patterns and growing ever more intricate as they combined around the surrounding area.

Harry opened his eyes, and was momentarily taken aback to see the two combined energies glowing purple and gold. A euphoric laugh escaped him as he realized he knew instinctively that the love was purple and the magic gold. He wondered briefly if every wizard's magic was the same color. The boy smiled expansively. He couldn't tell how long he had been at it before the wards were complete, but felt and saw the disconnect in power between himself and what was now a separate living magical force that surrounded Number 10 Privet Drive.

The boy pushed himself off the ground and was awestruck to see the tightly woven ropes of gold and purple light that not only surrounded the perimeter, but appeared in a criss-cross pattern above it as well. The property was in essence encased in a tightly woven bubble of colorful light.

So taken was Harry with his handy work that he did not immediately notice a clearly distressed Mrs. Figg as the woman came out onto the back porch.

"Mr. Moody says your to run home this minute, Harry," the old woman ordered, looking around the yard as though the place were under attack.

"What's happened?" the boy asked, drawing his wand and following the woman's frantic gaze.

"He can't get through the floo!" she explained, taking Harry by the arm and urging him to go. "'Fraid You-Know-Who knows your here, and has done something to block the house. "Might be Death Eaters coming," she said a touch hysterically.

"Death Eaters?" Harry breathed, fearing he had placed the old woman in danger with his dawdling over his studies all day. Mad-Eye had been right. Oh would he _never_ learn to listen and stop risking others lives. Just then, the boy heard many footfalls running hard and fast toward the house.

"Potter!" someone bellowed as they approached, and Harry pulled the old woman to the ground in an effort to protect her. Then he heard a voice that sounded like Remus Lupin's.

"Harry, are you all right?" the man called frantically. "We can't get through, Moody," Lupin told the ex-Auror unnecessarily. "The area has been warded."

"I can see that," Moody barked irritably. "I hope that old woman got him out in time. You two," the man ordered, indicating Fred and George. "Go around front and see what you can find out."

"The boy's just here, Moody," came a muffled voice from beneath Harry.

"Mr. Moody," Harry called tentatively, as he rolled off of Mrs. Figg and got to his feet. "What's going on?"

"Potter," Moody sighed, in some relief. "Are you all right, lad? Someone has warded the place and none of us can't get in through the floo or otherwise. There might be Death Eaters about. Look sharp boy, and get your hide back to your aunt's." the one-eye wizard ordered.

"Oh, Merlin. What if the wards won't let him out?" Lupin wanted to know.

"Give it a try, boy," Moody commanded. "Look at all the magical trace," Moody whistled, looking about. "Somebody bloody well knew what they were doing.

"What magical trace?" asked Fred from Moody's side as he followed the man's gaze. "I can't see a thing."

"Me neither," George put in.

"I thought I told you two to look around the front," Moody said in and exasperated tone.

"Oh," said Fred.

"Sorry," said George.

"Thought we were looking for 'arry," the twins said in unison, and rushed off to obey.

"Death Eaters! You young idiots!" Moody hissed. "And mind you don't get killed."

"Will do," Fred called over his shoulder.

"What the devil are you waiting for?" Moody addressed Harry in a sharp tone.

"Mr. Moody," began Harry in a horrified tone. "I-I constructed the wards."

"You what?" demanded Moody, incredulously.

"Yes sir," Harry continued, a bit sickened. "I was practicing a spell on perimeter protection wards I read about today," Harry refused to meet the man's gaze. "Thought if I built a proper one you might let me train here."

"You spelled protection wards to keep us out?" the man questioned in angry disbelief. "Who the bloody hell else are you protecting yourself from boy?" he asked sarcastically. "Santa Claus, Tooth Fairy, bleeding Easter Bunny?"

"Now, now, Moody," Lupin began in a soothing tone. "No harm done. These wards are actually quite impressive," he gave the boy an encouraging look. "I'm sure Harry can change them back."

Harry looked dubious. As he wasn't at all sure what he had done wrong, he lacked Lupin's confidence in his ability to right the situation. Harry was trying to figure out the best way to explain this and not have Moody try to hex him, when McGonagall arrived with Tonks and one Order member Harry didn't know.

"What is it Moody?" his former Transfiguration teacher queried, rushing forward. "Is Potter all right?"

"He's bloody well fine," Moody told her acidly. "Have a look for yourself," He pointed, indicating an embarrassed looking Harry from just beyond the wards. "Safe and sound behind wards he created to keep everyone who is trying to protect him out, and let in Merlin knows who."

The Headmistress looked around apparently just noticing the ropes of gold and purple light.

"Did _you _do construct this Harry?" she asked, in a somewhat hushed tone as she passed through the wards to stand in front of the stunned young man. "It is an Emotion Perimeter Ward isn't it?"

Though her tone sounded impressed, Harry wasn't quite sure whether a tongue lashing mightn't start soon. He was also completely at a loss as to why she could enter the warded area while others could not.

"Yes, Professor," Harry responded in a somewhat subdued voice.

"Ah," Lupin responded. "I've heard of these," he looked around appraisingly. "They are not supposed to be this effective."

"_Effective_," Moody growled in disgusted frustration. "It's a bloody disaster is what..."

McGonagall cut off the man's rant.

"I am assuming your focus was Dumbledore?" the old witch asked Harry kindly.

"Yes ma'am," Harry admitted quietly, still not sure she wouldn't team up with Moody and begin scolding him for making such a foolish mistake.

"I see," she continued. "And what was your purple strand? As I recall, the gold is your magic."

"Uh...yes," Harry stuttered, relief beginning to dawn, as he discovered she seemed to understand a bit of what was going on. "My purple is love," he explained. "I'm not sure what I did wrong, Professor..." he began apologetically.

"I don't believe you did anything wrong, Harry. And these wards are extremely well constructed."

"Well then why can't the others get in?" Harry asked, puzzled.

"You may find that though a great many people respected Albus Dumbledore, not everyone will define love for him in the same terms as yourself," she explained patiently. "This would make it difficult for them to transverse such wards," she continued, making no mention that she was able to enter the warded area with relative ease.

"Oh, I see Minerva," Lupin nodded his head, in dawning comprehension. "Would it work if Harry concentrated on loyalty instead."

"It might very well," the woman conceded. "Now, Harry," she spoke to the boy with far more patience than she ever had in Transfiguration class. "All you need do is focus as you did before. Only this time concentrate on you loyalty to Professor Dumbledore instead of your love."

"All right," Harry said feeling a bit more confident.

"Perhaps it might be less daunting if you test it out on a small section first," she suggested, pointing to where Moody stood with Lupin and Tonks. Fred and George had rejoined the group as well.

Harry raised his hand and focused briefly on his loyalty for Dumbledore, and a section of the ward about the size of a doorway changed from purple to blue.

Moody and Lupin took tentative steps forward and the others followed.

"That was quite impressive, Harry," Lupin approached smiling and giving the boy a one armed hug.

"Bloody brilliant," Fred echoed the sentiment, while others nodded.

"Impressive or no," began Moody sternly, still displeased with Harry. "In future you are to run it by me first before you pull a stunt like that again."

"Yes sir," Harry agreed quickly, a bit apprehensive at Moody's approach.

"Right then," Moody nodded. "Just trying to look out for you, lad," he told the boy. "Gave Albus my word I would," he placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Can't if you don't cooperate though. Right?" he cuffed Harry affectionately on the back of the head, then smiled a bit.

Harry smiled in agreement, looking sheepish and relieved.

"Wards are actually a splendid idea Moody," McGonagall was saying. "It's a wonder we didn't think of it before."

Moody made a non-committal sound in his throat.

McGonagall and Lupin's support emboldened Harry to speak.

"Mr. Moody..." he began tentatively. "Now I've worked out how to make Mrs. Figg's house safe, I really would like to practice my magic here. That's if it's all right with Mrs. Figg," Harry indicated the old woman at his side.

"'Twood be fine with me," she responded kindly. "So there's some sort of protection here for Harry now is there?" she asked looking around as though puzzled by what the wizards were referring to.

Moody looked pensive for a moment.

"Reckon it would be safe now, Moody," Tonks put in. "'Specially if Harry just left the portal like bit open when he was here, and maybe spelled the floo the same way," she looked around for agreement. "He'd be perfectly safe that way."

"And when he isn't training he could switch the whole thing to loyalty," Lupin was truly warming to the subject. "We'd all be in much better shape than we ever were."

"Harry was ordered by Albus to train," McGonagall began, as though she expected to have the final word. "And I think he has come up with an excellent solution as to how to manage it." the Headmistress fixed her gaze on the ex-Auror. "And we were ordered to help."

Moody nodded grudgingly. "That we were, Minerva. That we were," the one-eyed man clapped Harry on the shoulder. "Well done then, lad."

Harry's face split into a broad grin.

"Excellent, Potter," McGonagall agreed, a smile gracing the usually stern face of the Headmistress.

Harry was unused to this level of praise from the normally stern witch and began to feel a bit self-conscious.

"Well I only read about these for the first time today," the boy said in a self effacing way. "Honestly, I'm not even sure how it worked," Harry looked at the colored ropes. "So these are magical trace are they?" Harry asked the Headmistress, who nodded. "Well how come I can see them? I couldn't before. And Fred, George and Mrs. Figg can't." The three nodded to confirm Harry's assessment.

"One must hone their focus to be able to notice magical trace," McGonagall began, in full lecture mode. "Not all wizards have trained in this area. Sometimes," the Headmistress speculated. "when one casts complex magic that is beyond their years and training, other magical concepts fall into place."

"But this was simple," Harry protested.

The Headmistress smiled indulgently. "Not many would consider a construction such as this simple, Harry," she assured the bewildered young wizard, who seemed to feel he might be getting more credit than he deserved.

He was very pleased about being able to see the magical trace, however, that was one of the skills he would need for the Horcruxes.

"Will I be able to see other trace too," he asked. "Or just my own?"

"Let's see," McGonagall flicked her wand and transfigured and unsuspecting Gnome into a rowanberry. "Now trace it is not readily noticeable, you must focus," she advised.

Harry stared at the rowanberry. After a moments contemplation he noticed a tiny silver glow surrounding it.

"Your trace is silver," the boy told her excitedly.

"Yes," McGonagall told him. "Most powerful witches and wizards leave gold or silver trace," she said without a hint of self-consciousness. "Some dark wizards leave red."

It was a very pleased Harry that left for home that evening. He'd discovered how to construct protection wards, and he could now see magical trace factors. This fact was proven beyond a shadow of a doubt when he realized that by focusing, he could now see the wards that surrounded his realative's house as well. The ropes of light were slender in their and graceful strength. The emerald and gold strands artfully woven into impossibly intricate patterns.

After stealthily mounting the stairs and defly avoiding his realatives, Harry crawled into bed exhausted and relieved that he would have something significant to report when the Headmaster next asked how his studies were going.

**_Coming soon:_**

**Chapter 8 **

**The Visit**

**"What in the seven hells are you doing here, Potter?" Snape exploded, causing Harry to toss the lid aside and crab walk backwards a few paces. "Protection wards were placed at your home for good reason. What possible motive could you have in that dunderheaded little brain of yours for wandering around this time of night?" the angry wizard did not pause for an answer. "Of all the idiotic, asinine, arrogant, behavior," he thundered on.**

**It had been a while since Harry had seen Snape encouraged to full rage. But little had varied in the man's performance. Even the adjectives were the same. Well..._asinine_ might be a new one, Harry thought ruefully, but _dunderhead_ was a classic staple.**


	8. The Visit

**Disclaimer**: I wish they were mine, but J.K. owns 'em. 

**Authors notes**: Thanks for your reviews. I appreciate them so much.

**Frosty**: Thanks for your kind words. I have no idea what is going to happen when school starts. I teach. But I'll definitely keep writing because I'm quite sure I'm having as much fun as you folks seem to be.

**Kathy**: How sweet. I certainly await your reviews.

_I await all your reviews actually. 'Cuz as you know, there ain't no money in this._

_So Please read and review, and I hope you all like the chapter._

**Chapter 8**

**The Visit **

After coming to the full realization of what he had accomplished with the wards at Mrs. Figg's house, and the obvious connection to wandless and non-verbal magic, Harry decided the main focus of his studies should be on his ability to perform these types of spells. His hope was that it would prove a method by which he would better understand these two types of magic.

He thought about the numerous times he had been able to accomplish wandless, non-verbal spells throughout his life, and it was almost always accompanied by some sort of emotion. The list was long: apparating onto the roof because he was frightened of Dudley, putting the boy in the snake aquarium because he was irritated with him, making his own hair grow back because he was sad, and blowing up his Aunt Marge because he was furious, just named a few. If Harry had a galleon for every hiding he had received from Uncle Vernon because something strange had happened, he would be able to pay Voldermort to sod off.

After the construction of the wards, Harry's self training began to take on a character all its own. In addition to studying and furiously sticking post-its in the margins of texts all day, Harry attempted to frame the hard to decipher information in terms of what he already knew.

Nearly two weeks had gone by, and although he hadn't gotten much better at traditional non-verbal and wandless spells, Harry had grown adept at making interesting things happen. And he had been working on creative ways to use these things for defense.

This is where the Gnomes came in. Harry spent his nights from half eleven to dawn, transfiguring the little people to the size of humans and trying out various spells. In a few short days he would be allowed to go to the Burrow and practice with Ron and Hermione, but the Gnomes were dead useful in the mean time. He used the same method to blow them up as he had with Aunt Marge. There had been some interesting side effects during the Aunt Marge incident with wind and lighting too, and Harry tried these out as well. The boy found he didn't have to really be furious, he could just pretend he was and work himself up that way.

He also used the hair growing spell to speed up the growth of the Gnome's eyebrows, making them instantly long enough to obstruct their vision. Harry found he could make the Gnome's noses run, eyes water, and make them itch terribly. Although these spells were more annoying than harmful, Harry could see how they might provide a useful distraction in a battle. Sometimes he would leave the Gnomes small as a way of practicing his control. determining just the right force for the spells he designed to make them trip over their feet, bump into one another, or spin around.

Harry was working on control the night he sensed a presence near the shed in the corner of the garden of number 10 Privet Drive. To the casual observer it might appear like the boy was simply lounging on the back porch. To the not so casual observer it might look like he was torturing defenseless Gnomes. The visitor who arrived that night was not a casual observer, but gave little thought to what the boy might be doing save for the fact that the irresponsible brat should not be away from the protection of his relatives home at that time of night.

When Harry first sensed the presence, he took a moment to concentrate on appearing natural before taking action. He didn't dare go for his wand just yet. Counting on the element of surprise, Harry took a deep, lazy breath while stretching his arms, and apparated in front of the intruder. By concentrating on a firm pushing motion without the use of his wand he was able to make the man fall on his backside. The figure recovered himself immediately and was able to land Harry in a similar position with the strength of his voice alone.

"Potter!" Snape roared, and Harry fell onto his arse in shock, and crab walked backward for a bit before the furious, older wizard threw a hex. Harry had been toying around with the theory, while working with the Gnomes, that he might be able to block some hexes by using objects from his immediate environment. He was able to block Snape's hex, just barely, by summoning a garbage can lid. It was not a traditional _Accio_. It was a wandless, non-verbal spell, and he accomplished it by simply wishing the lid to be in front of him while drawing on his desire not to be hexed. It worked really well. From the looks of the lid, the hex had been a body bind. The thing would never fit on the can again.

"What in the seven hells are you doing here, Potter?" Snape exploded, causing Harry to toss the lid aside and crab walk backwards a few more paces. "Protection wards were placed at your home for good reason. What possible motive could you have in that dunderheaded little brain of yours for wandering about this time of night?" the angry wizard did not pause for an answer. "Of all the idiotic, asinine, behavior," he thundered on.

It had been a while since Harry had seen Snape encouraged to full rage. But the man had not altered his performance. Even the adjectives were the same. Well..._asinine_ might be a new one, Harry thought ruefully, but _dunderhead_ was a classic standard.

"What in Merlin's name do you mean by it boy?" the dark haired wizard was fairly foaming at the mouth.

"Mean by what sir?" Harry decided to ask innocently, getting to his feet and affecting a puzzled expression. He couldn't help it. Baiting Snape. It was a bit like taunting a snake, and born of habit. If they had been at Hogwarts the man would have taken house points, perhaps given the boy a detention for his cheek. But they were not at Hogwarts, and apparently the rules didn't apply, so Harry was a little caught off guard when Snape slapped him. Hard.

For a moment both wizards looked a bit stunned, but Snape recovered first.

"Do not toy with me boy," the man hissed. "There is no need for someone of your questionable intelligence to 'play dumb'. You know full well there are wards in place at your relative's home for your protection. Protection that others risk their lives to uphold and you in your self-important arrogance choose to flout," Snape eyed him with contempt. "You empty-headed..."

"The wards here will protect me," Harry snarled with indignant rage before the man could start on a fresh set of descriptives.

"Imbecilic brat" Snape spat. "Do you not realize the wards do not extend..." Snape looked around, noticing the trace of Harry's wards for the first time. "Who constructed these wards Potter?" Snape asked, with something akin to amazement.

Still stinging with humiliation and pain from the slap, Harry cut off the snide retort he may have delivered. "I did." he stated in a flat, angry tone. Being sure to leave off the word _sir_, or anything else the foul bastard might mistake for respect.

As Snape looked around Harry could have sworn he saw an expression bordering on approval, but it vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

"There is a breach. Just there," the man sneered critically, indicating the loyalty portal.

"Yeah, that's the..." Harry began.

"Repair it at once," the dark haired wizard ordered sharply.

Harry paused for a moment in thought. "Is that where you entered?" he asked curiously. The implications of Snape being on the inside of the wards suddenly becoming clear, and quickly joining forces with the fact Dumbledore still trusted the man.

"I entered near the shed as you well know having sensed my arrival," Harry thought he saw the hint of approval again, but the older wizard was quick to school his expression. "Repair it," Snape ordered again sharply, indicating the blue section of the ward.

Harry rolled his eyes, but did as he was told.

Snape nodded his head once and turned on his heel heading back toward the shed.

After a moment Harry followed. "What are you doing here?" he asked indelicately. Snape spun on his heel and contemplated telling the impudent brat it was none of his concern. However, the message he was about to deliver did concern Potter. He considered the boy.

"What are you doing here, _sir_?" he emphasized the last word, looking at Harry hard.

Harry bit off several angry retorts. What was it with this guy? He and Dumbledore both for the love of Merlin... Harry made an effort to control his breathing. Dumbledore trusts him, and he was able to transverse the purple section of the wards. Harry told himself. My bloody cheek hurts like hell the boy thought testily.

From years of practice with Vernon, Harry made sure he was out of arms reach before speaking.

"You've got to be joking," Harry told the man. "Earlier when I called you _sir_ you backhanded me. I thought you didn't like it," Harry explained in mock sincerity.

The boy looked on impertinently as the man clenched and unclenched his hand.

"Need I do so again?" the man inquired silkily. "Or shall I come up with something a bit more instructive?" he fingered his wand.

"Quite unnecessary _sir_," Harry began again smoothly. "May I ask what you are doing here?" the boy asked politely.

The dark-haired wizard's expression indicated he thought he might be being baited. Harry hid a smirk to indicate he was. Snape sneered menacingly to indicate it should stop. Harry swallowed hard to indicate he would consider it.

"I am delivering a confidential message for the Order," Snape decided to confide. "The Headmaster set up a method before his death."

"Thought of everything didn't he?" Harry let out a surprised breath. "Do the others know you...ah," the boy began.

"Of course not, Idiotic boy," Snape spat, as though _Idiotic _was Harry's given name, and _Boy_ was his surname. "No one knows the communication is from me. They think there are other spies in the Dark Lord's circle. And indeed there are."

This fact surprised Harry, the idea of there being other spies. He wanted to ask who, but thought better of it. He looked up at the man expectantly, silently biding him to continue.

Moderately pleased by the brat's self restraint, Snape obliged. The boy would find out soon enough anyway. "The Headmaster gave you leave to join the Weasley's soon?"

"In four days time," Harry began, not liking the direction the man's comments were going. "He said I only needed to stay here two weeks," Harry explained unnecessarily. "When I first got the," Harry indicated his chest vaguely. "You know...the thing."

"As articulate as ever, Potter," Snape opined snidely. "I regret your plans must be altered," but Snape didn't seem _very _regretful, Harry noticed.

"_Why_?" the boy spat in angry defiance. At Snape's warning glance he schooled his expression to something closer to a dark petulance.

"There is a Death Eater attack that has been planned for the day of the Weasley wedding." Snape explained. "Contingency plans are underway to attack earlier if a better opportunity is found to murder you," Snape continued, his usually snide tone a bit muted.

Harry was horrified. An attack at Bill and Fluer's wedding. "How long do I have to stay here?" He wanted to know.

"Until you join me for training," Snape stated, with finality.

Harry had been counting on trying to perfect some of the things he had been working on with Ron and Hermione. He was still holding onto the hope that he might not have to join Snape at all. Harry didn't voice any of these concerns however.

"Potter," an agitated voice barked from beyond the wards. Before Harry could react, a protective arm was thrown across his chest and he was slammed into the shed.

"Geroff," he told Snape. "It's Moody.

Snape moved his arm.

"I think you better go," Harry told him, peeking around the shed. Snape joined him to see Mad-Eye Moody resisting against the wards.

"Can he not get in?" Snape questioned.

"Well..." Harry began.

"Potter!" Moody yelled.

"Why can he not get it?" Snape asked, more pointedly this time.

"Well...erm," Harry began, more vaguely this time.

"Potter!" Moody howled, from beyond the wards.

"Potter?" Snape hissed, from uncomfortably close.

"Just a second Moody," Harry called out to the ex-Auror.

"Potter?" the one-eyed man's voice was moderately relieved. "I can't get through the wards. What's going on in there, lad? Are you all right?" Moody wanted to know.

"'M fine," Harry tried to assure himself. "Wait a moment will you?"

"No," Moody told him getting angry now, "Open the portal," the man ordered firmly. "Now."

"'Kay," Harry said, turning to Snape. "I'm thinking you should really go now."

"Potter," Moody hollered, clearly furious now.

"Not until you explain why I was able to cross your wards, while Moody, _who has been ordered to protect you_," the man fairly spat the words. "Apparently can not."

"Potter!" Moody bellowed. "You open the portal this instant, or so help me boy I will hex you to within and inch of your life."

"Oh my," Harry said, a bit alarmed. "Couldn't you just leave sir? It makes me really uncomfortable when Moody's this mad."

"Were I you," Snape purred silkily. "I should be more concerned with the wizard in closest proximity."

"Well that's not much of choice is it?" the boy retorted, a bit strained. "Okay. Hold on a moment," Harry said in a defeated tone, and stepped out a few paces beyond the shed into the open.

"Mr. Moody," the boy began with a gentle confidence he did not feel, but somehow reminded Snape sharply of Albus Dumbledore. "I assure you I am fine. For the next little while, I will be conducting a bit of business that concerns the Headmaster's final instructions to me. I needed to shut the portal to maintain security. However, I assure you if you will give me leave to conduct my affairs, I will endeavor to explain everything to your satisfaction later." Harry walked away without waiting for a response, looking every inch the confident mature wizard. Only when he reached the far side of the garden shed, did he peek around the side to gauge the ex-Aurors reaction.

"I think he bought it," Harry sighed, and turned back to Snape. His relief was short lived.

"Now, Mr. Potter," Snape hissed dangerously. "You will kindly explain to me why this _incompetent, hoax _of a protection ward seems to keep out those who would defend you, such as members of the Order, and allow random others to enter blithely?"

"The wards are pretty well constructed," Harry defended himself with genuine confidence this time. Everyone else had been impressed with all he'd managed. "They wouldn't allow anyone to enter who meant me harm."

Snape quirked an ironic eyebrow, and the tips of Harry's ears reddened.

"Aside from you, and usually Moody apparently," the boy amended ruefully. "Who both seem sadistically determined to throttle me for my own protection tonight."

Snape looked mildly disconcerted before he quickly amended his expression.

"Potter your behavior is moronic and your arrogance astounding. You will explain to me why Moody is kept beyond these _well constructed _wards of yours, while I was able to enter. You can not be certain others of Voldemort's followers can not gain entrance if you have not properly tested the boundaries, you stupid, irresponsible boy."

"But you're not one of Voldemort's followers, sir." Harry found himself surprised to be saying these words to this man with such ease. "You're Professor Dumbledore's..." Harry hesitated the briefest of moments. "Man."

"Potter, your explanation grows more convoluted with each word you utter." Snape snarled, what little patience the man possessed fast disappearing. "Alastor Moody was a loyal friend of Albus Dumbledore since before either of us were born. Yet according to your argument..."

"These are called Emotion Protection Wards, Professor," Harry explained patiently, as though there had been some bizarre role reversal, and Snape was a rather dense student. "You construct them by concentrating on an emotion connected to someone. In this case love. Only those who love the central figure as much of more than the one who constructed the wards can enter. The central figure for these wards was Professor Dumbledore. Only problem was, most of the Order members couldn't pass through. It was a mess. You think Moody's mad tonight," Harry said with a shiver. At Snape's impatient expression he continued.

"So Remus suggested I concentrate on loyalty instead and it gave most of the members access again. When I'm training at night, I recharm the perimeter for love and just leave one loyalty portal open. There." Harry indicated the general direction of where Moody stood. "You ordered me to close it. The only ones who have been able to gain access when the wards are charmed like this are me and McGonagall. She said it's because not everyone would define their love for the Headmaster in the same terms as I do," Harry shrugged. "That's why I asked you if you entered on the blue, which is loyalty. The purple is love," Harry paused and cleared his throat. "That was McGonagall's theory anyhow."

There was a substantial silence while Snape squirmed at the discomfort of having been accused of loving someone, even it was Albus Dumbledore.

"_Professor_ McGonagall, Potter," Snape corrected harshly, attempting to take refuge in the normalcy of a sharp rebuke.

"Well, Headmistress actually," Harry began mildly. "But you're right sir, sorry.

Snape looked even more at a loss by the unparalleled occurrence of Harry admitting he was right, calling him sir, and apologizing all in one breath. The boy would have given a thousand galleons to photograph Snape's expression. Harry took pity on him, but not too much, and sternly looked down at his trainers willing himself not to laugh.

"What was that curse you hit me with earlier Potter," Snape demanded. Harshly grappling for control.

The older wizard's tone was so severe it reminded Harry abruptly of his dream. When Snape had been angry because he thought Harry was turning dark.

Harry took a moment to remind himself it had only been a dream, before he explained what he had thrown at Snape hadn't really been a curse. The boy began detailing some of the things he had been working on thus far. He discussed what he had been reading and how he was trying to adapt it to things that worked for him. Harry was surprised that discussing these things with Snape was actually helping him clarify and refine his thoughts. After a bit, Snape transfigured a large rock and took a seat near the door of the shed, and Harry sat cross-legged in front of him. Surprisingly Snape didn't downgrade Harry's efforts. Nor did he offer any answers to Harry's many questions. He would simply ask additional questions that might send Harry's thoughts in different a direction or further down the same path.

The boy explained that he had been working on apparition for the element of surprise. And the older wizard quirked an eyebrow, clearly remembering being surprised when Harry had apparated in front of him. Harry explained that while he had only been able to master a few spells using traditional wandless, and non-verbal magic, he had been able to accomplish some other interesting things using a sort of wish-emotion magic that he had been able to do as a child.

Harry thought Snape's expression looked as though he might be a bit pleased and was surprised and confused by how much the idea gratified him. The boy began to explain that he had been reading a bit on Occlumency as well, but had no way to tell if the stuff he was reading was effective. However, the more he read it seemed he could Legillimize his relatives and often Mrs. Figg without any conscious intent.

"It's not like I'm trying to or anything," Harry clarified.

"You are something of a natural Legillimens," Snape told him.

Harry couldn't tell if he was being rebuked, or complimented, or what, but didn't want to ruin what had been a pretty good conversation by asking something stupid. Especially given the conversation was with Snape, and the whole Occlumency issue was rife with controversy.  
Harry ended by discussing the non-verbal wandless block he had been working on that used the same elements as the wards he had created.

This time Harry clearly saw the look of approval linger a moment before the dark haired wizard stowed it beneath his stern mask.

"Your efforts are satisfactory, if unconventional," the man offered in a measured tone. "You are to continue your studies as you have begun," he instructed sternly, as he prepared to go.

This was an extravagant compliment coming from Snape. Harry was a bit embarrassed and puzzled by the way his face and ears flushed at the man's words.

_The bastard slapped you, and then called you an idiot like twelve times_. Harry reminded himself firmly, while he grasped around for something that might break the mood and return them to some semblance of normalcy.

"So you're sure I can't go to the Weasley's?" Harry ventured, rising with the man as he got to his feet.

At Snape's incredulous sneer, Harry shrugged his shoulders as if to say, _just asking_.

"My decision is final," Snape replied curtly. "I will not allow it."

Harry forced himself to bristle at the thought of Snape having the authority to make a final decision, or allow anything which concerned him.

"The Weasley's are obviously going to be told though. Right? Through you message system or whatever...?" Harry questioned insolently, if a bit inarticulately.

"That was the main purpose of my visit, Potter," Snape sneered. "It is as though I am speaking to a dim-witted child."

Harry coughed a laugh into submission. Things hadn't gone that far afield.

After Snape left, Harry took a moment to marvel at how normal and good it had felt speaking with the man about what he was reading and learning. He could recall Hermione mentioning having similar conversations with McGonagall and Flitwick. But that was Hermione for the love of Merlin, and this was, after all, Snape. The boy tried to drum up some feelings of hatred. But inspite of his cheek, which still throbbed a bit, he didn't have much luck.

_**Thanks for reading. If I get enough encouragement, I will try to update every weekend. I'm going to need a lot of reinforcement I fear, so don't forget to review.**_


	9. Two Howlers and a Hiding Part I

**Disclaimer: **Not mine. Wish they were. J.K. owns 'em. 

**Authors Notes: **Thanks so much for your reviews. I appreciate you all so much. I really wanted to get this update in, so I beg your indulgence regarding any errors.

**Chapter 9 **

**Two Howlers and a Hiding **

**Part I**

An old woman in tattered, floral dress robes sat next to a little blond boy, with pale gray eyes, and admired his pets. The child appeared to be no more than seven or eight years of age. But appearances could be deceiving, as the old woman could attest to first hand.

"That's a very handsome rat," she said in a sugary, old voice, that sounded a bit contrived for its sweetness. She gently patted the rodent's head with a wizened, yellow index finger, while studiously ignoring it's small silver paw. "Oh, and you have a snake as well," she exclaimed, as though just noticing the squirming burden in the child's other hand. "What a lucky boy you are," she assured him kindly, while studying his pale gray eyes.

"Please don't tell," the boy said, stowing the creatures under his robes with a start. How had this batty old woman sneaked up on him. He hadn't even heard her approach. The boy did not know that with the assistance of two friends, the old woman cast enough _notice-me-not _charms to almost be disillusioned. The boy patted the snake in a nervous way; he knew he'd be punished severely if he fouled things up. He had to think fast.

"My Moth...erm... Mummy and Daddy don't know I've brought my ah... pets," the white haired boy explained in an innocent whisper. "I'll be in trouble if anyone finds out," his eyes actually watered a bit at this, the old woman made note.

Whether it was an act or not the boy himself wasn't even sure. But it wasn't difficult to conjure a tear or two to roll down his pale cheek, when he thought recent punishments he had received for mistakes both real and imagined.

"Your secret is safe with me," the women patted the boys pale head encouragingly, instinctively realizing he was worried about slightly more than being scolded or spanked. "Are your Mummy and Daddy friends of the bride or groom?" the old woman interrogated.

"The bride," the boy informed her deftly, again thinking fast. "Mummy went to Beauxbatons with Mademoiselle Fleur," he added, thinking this would be a nice touch. Even if this woman had gone to Beauxbatons as well, she seemed too old to have been in Fleur's year.

"Oh, how lovely," the old woman purred triumphantly. Not for a moment letting on how completely the boy had finally given himself away.

In fact, none of the twenty odd Death Eaters who littered the grounds of the Burrow, both disguised, disillusioned and with a few _notice-me-nots _for good measure, seemed to realize that the wedding party consisted solely of Weasleys, or more accurately replica's of Weasley's, in various degrees of disguise. Arthur Weasley appeared no less than ten times: bearded Arthur, bald Arthur, pony-tailed Arthur with glasses. There were many varieties. Mustached Arthur was acting as Wizard Justice of the Peace.

The only exceptions, save for the Death Eaters, were ployjuice Fluer and polyjuice Arabella Figg. And if the clever young wizard that inhabited the old woman's body was not mistaken, and he was not, he had spent the last five minutes or so consoling an age charmed Draco Malfoy.

The idea of polyjuice had first come up in a discussion between Harry, Hermione and Ron two weeks prior at number 10 Privet Drive. It was the morning after Snape's visit. After the decent conversation and unheard of praise, the seething hatred that had governed Harry's relationship with the man for so long felt a bit unsteady and nebulous.

While Harry was finding it difficult to fully posses the deep, righteous loathing for the Potions Master that had guided him for six years, the boy had no trouble being absolutely ticked at Dumbledore. He had contacted the Headmaster via the Angelth to see if he could find out more about what was _really _going on. When the Headmaster was less than forth coming, Harry made the mistake of asking if he really need obey Snape, and was there any way possible he could still go to the Burrow.

"I am both bewildered and disappointed that you would have the unmitigated temerity to make such a suggestion, Harry," The Headmaster roundly scolded the boy, going so far as to accuse Harry of being selfish and not caring for the safety of his friends. Harry tried to explain that after Snape left, as the night wore on, he became convinced that Voldermort would probably attack the wedding anyway. Harry wanted to be there to help protect his friends. Dumbledore wasted no time pointing out the error of his logic in a tone worthy of Snape.

It was an extremely chastened Harry that had arrived at Mrs. Figg's that morning to begin his studies.

"Morning Hermione," He said moodily as he stroked the orange cat's fur. She lumbered her plump form toa chair, then up on to table, and nuzzled the boy's hand by way of greeting. The other cats were in attendance as well, rubbing themselves against his pant legs, and purring loudly. However, it was clear that the boy had not yet developed the same bond with any of them as he had with the feline named for his clever friend.

"Good morning, Harry," returned a familiar voice. As the boy whirled toward the voice near the floo, a bushy-head of hair barreled toward him.

"'Mione," the boy squealed in happy surprise, as the witch nearly toppled him. "What are you doing here?"

Harry had owled both Ron and Hermione the night before to let them know he would be unable to join them at the Burrow as planned. At the Headmaster's stern insistence, he had not told them about Snape's message. The man had firmly admonished via the Angelth that Harry often let his heart get ahead of his brain and this was often the source of his difficulties. Harry felt severely reprimanded, although he could not deny the truthfulness of the old man's words.

Dumbledore had insisted that Harry let the Order provide warning to the Weasley's and spend more time concentrating on his own responsibilities. This upset Harry no end. He had been focusing on his responsibilities. Even Snape had complimented him for Merlin's sake.

In the end Harry blamed the Headmaster's stern demeanor on the fact that the old man must fear Harry would do something dangerous. And since he could not be there to either stop Harry or offer assistance, the older wizard was more verbally harsh than he otherwise may have been.

It was all Harry could do to abide the man's wishes regarding Snape's message as he stood looking at his friend in the kitchen of Number 10 Privet Drive. The urge to tell Hermione about Snape and the Angelth both were nearly overwhelming. Hermione saved him from his grief, however.

"Oh Harry, we heard this morning about the planned attack at the wedding, just a bit after receiving your owl." she looked at her friend sadly. "Ron will be here in a while. He's helping see to the added security around the Burrow," she explained to the dark haired boy. "Most of the Order is there."

"They're going to go on with the wedding anyhow then?" Harry questioned Ron later that same day, as the three friends sat in Mrs. Figg's back garden, throwing hexes at the Gnomes. Ron's hexes seemed unnecessarily harsh, and Hermione had to scold him several times.

"Everybody reckons that You-Know-Who will attack the wedding anyway, whether you're there or not," Ron stated, dejectedly.

"That's what I told Dumb---" Harry caught himself just in time. "Those dumb... cats," he corrected lamely.

"Really, Harry," Hermione giggled, giving him an odd look. "We've just have to figure out a way to help minimize the damage," the girl stated determinedly, as though it were a particularly puzzling arithmancy problem.

Although Ron was too worried to agree they had any power in the matter, he was the first one to come up with the idea of using polyjuice to create a wedding party decoy.

Hermione tried to shoot the idea down, reminding him that polyjuice took nearly a month to brew. Harry on the other hand thought the idea was indeed worth discussion, and showed them the quick brew potions formulas he had come across in the Prince's Potions text.

Polyjuice was one of eight potions that the Prince had discovered a method of brewing in less than the regular time. The Prince's quick- brewed polyjuice took only twenty four hours to prepare, and one dose would last up to twelve hours. However, it was considerably less stable than the normal potion. For example, a person might be frightened or shocked out of their polyjuice form instead of it wearing off in the normal way.

"At least the murdering git was good for something," Ron opined, throwing a lazy jelly legs curse at an unsuspecting Gnome.

The trio had decided, and also gotten permission, that since Harry couldn't come to the Burrow, his friends would stay at Privet Drive. Accomplishing this under the very noses of his relatives was easier than Harry would have imagined now that Ron and Hermione had both come of age. They owled the Ministry that Harry's friends would be staying for an undetermined length, and any magic cast at Number 4 Privet Drive should be assumed to be theirs.

The three wasted no time transfiguring Dudley's second bedroom into a comfortable, little suite, whose three modest bedrooms, complete with half baths, led out into a convenient sitting room and kitchenette. The place was charmed to look like the same old bedroom should anyone enter through the front door, and there was an ongoing _notice-me-not _for Ron and Hemione as well as a silencing charm. Meals could have been a problem as only Harry knew how to cook. But he still took most of his meals with the Dursley's, and Mrs. Figg was fairly overjoyed to feed the other two.

"But who would take the polyjuice?" Harry questioned, still arguing the polyjuice plan from earlier in that day as the three sat on the comfortable sofa in the sitting room of Dudley's second bedroom. "Someone would still be at risk."

Ron thought of using the Gnomes as polyjuice decoys for the wedding, having been treated to a demonstration earlier of the work Harry had been doing with the creatures. The red headed boy had been none too impressed.

"You had better get busy on more deadly types of defense if your going to battle You-Know-Who, 'arry," he said chucking a rowanberry at one of the little people. "You won't slow down a Death Eater by making his ruddy nose run." Hermione agreed with Ron for the most part, and insisted Harry should be spending more time figuring out the Horcruxes. He would have liked to see the looks on their faces if he'd told them Snape thought he was doing a good job.

In the end it was decided that using the Gnomes as polyjuice decoys for the Weasley wedding would be far too risky.

"They're too bloody stupid," Ron stated in a rather scathing way that made Harry uncomfortable.

Harry vetoed the Gnomes as well because there would be now way to explain to them what was expected, and they were bound to be seriously injured during a Death Eater attack. Surprisingly, it was Hermione who first came up with the idea of asking the House Elves to help.

So at the decoy Weasley wedding, the moment that the polyjuiced Elf Wizard Justice of the Peace gave polyjuiced Elf Bill Weasley permission to kiss his polyjuiced Elf bride, was apparently the signal for the Death Eaters that all hell should break lose. The polyjuiced Arabella Figg took a moment, after the first curse was thrown, to run a yellowed thumbnail across a galleon taken from the pocket of the tatty, floral dress robes. She then turned to the pale boy with the gray eyes and grabbed hold of his arm firmly.

"Come dear," the old voice was kind and determined. "I'll protect you. You and your lovely pets," Malfoy was fairly dragged toward the house. Before they could get there, however, polyjuice Arabella had to push the boy behind her to block an onslaught of Death Eater curses. Polyjuice Arabella used the recently perfected _Wulfric Ward_, a block named for Albus Dumbledore, which used the same elements as the wards surrounding Number 10 Privet Drive.

As the curses bounced uselessly off the _Wulfric Ward_, polyjuice Arabella made way to the back door of the house with the blond boy in tow. She stopped twice more to block curses, before they reached their destination. A _Nose-run Gnome _was thrown for good measure and Arabella was gratified to note that it did indeed slow the Death Eater down.

Dobby, polyjuiced as Molly Weasley, came by and finished the job.

"You will not harm Harry Potter!" the Elf squeaked from inside Molly Weasley's hearty frame, sending the snot-nosed Death Eater careening in a blinding flash of light.

The signal was to have been Dobby's job. But Harry asked if he could do it, as he swore his little friend to secrecy regarding the young wizards presence at the Burrow.Harry just couldn't seem to bear having Elves he knew, like Dobby and Winky, fighting and not be there to at least help.

So, as the battle began at the home of the Weasley's, Harry Potter, polyjuiced as Arabella Figg, scratched his thumb across the surface of a galleon. This signaled the Weasley Clan, who had similar galleons compliments of Hermione, that Voldemort and his Death Eaters would be occupied for the next little while, and they could safely begin the real wedding ceremony at Number 10 Privet Drive. Harry had been forbidden to attend either gathering by Snape, Dumbledore, and just about every member of the Order of the Phoenix.

Snape had actually sent a Howler when he had gotten wind of how instrumental Harry and his friends were in the planning of the decoy wedding. It had been delivered by Fawkes just as Harry sat down to dinner with the Dursley's. Harry had just had time to rush into the downstairs loo, and cast a hasty _Muffilatio_ before the letter started to bellow at volume that Harry was to stay as far as humanly possible away from both real and faux Weasley weddings. Harry had been shaken up by the Howler. Who wouldn't be, cramped in a tiny toilet with Snape howling bloody murder?

Harry also had an inkling as to how Snape had figured out about the decoy event. Unbeknownst to the trio, the man had spied Harry and his friends buying potions ingredients in Diagon Alley. Since they were well protected by the Order, he didn't have anything to say about that, but he was curious about what ingredients Harry had purchased, and wanted to question him about it. As he couldn't do so then, and hadn't yet discovered the brilliant use of the Howler, Snape used the communication journal that McGonagall had given the boy on his last day at Hogwarts. Harry responded to the older wizard's query with a bold face lie, and quickly came to regret it. He wrote back to Snape telling him he had found a potion for a liquid _Imperios_, and he wanted to try it out.

Snape wrote back, in scathing script, that the potion was far too dark. And Harry had no business even considering using it. And if the man _ever _heard of him brewing such a potion the boy would wish he hadn't. And on, and on. At the time Harry thought it was almost as bad as getting a Howler. That was before he had gotten a real Howler, which he now realized was much worse. Harry took a leaf from Ron's book and responded via the journal asking if he mightn't need to get a bit darker if he meant to take on Voldemort. Snape wrote back in stern cramped script.

_No dark spells, Potter! _Harry could picture the man sneering. It reminded him of his dream, but something else also. On the night the Headmaster was killed, the dark haired wizard had told the boy the same thing.

But aside from being appropriately shaken by Snape's Howler forbidding him to attend either wedding or decoy, Harry had also been concerned that if Snape knew, word of the decoy wedding might get back to Voldermort. The boy sent a letter back via Fawkes saying as much, and adding, in a respectful way he thought, that he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. The man sent another Howler, roundly scolding him for his impudence and repeating his order that Harry was not to show his face at either event.

However, the boy never was one for following the rules. Snape had always been the first to admit it.

**_Please review. Hope you liked it._**


	10. Two Howlers and a Hiding Part II

**Chapter updated on 9/18/05**

**Disclaimer: **J.K. still owns 'em.

**Authors Notes: **I do appreciate your reviews. There were a few new names out there. Thanks very much for joining us. I appreciate your kind words. Over eighty reviews! Yahoo!

As you may have accurately guessed from the title, our hero does indeed receive a hiding in this chapter. If that sort of thing offends, you have my apologies. Please join us again in Chapter 11.

**Chapter 10**

**Two Howlers and a Hiding Part II**

"This way dear," Harry crooned lightly, in an approximation of Mrs.Figg's voice. His heart was pounding and his upper lip had began to sweat. The boy led Malfoy and his _pets_ through the back kitchen door of the Burrow. Outside they heard the sound of many dramatic curses. The likes of which, Harry, Malfoy, and certainly many of the Death Eaters had never heard before. House Elves generally were not given permission to fight wizards. But these House Elves, most of them from Hogwarts, had vowed to defend the Burrow, the home of the family Wheezy from the terrible dark wizards. And defend they did.

Once inside the kitchen, Harry motioned for Malfoy to sit down. Unless Harry missed his guess, the blond boy's pets were one Peter Pettigrew and either Voldemort himself or his pet snake, Nagini. Harry hoped to Merlin it wasn't Voldemort, and that the dark wizard was merely keeping an eye on things via the snake.

Nagini had been a hot topic of conversation among the trio at Privet Drive over the past week or so. Along with Hermione's admonishment that Harry should be spending more time focusing on the Horcruxes, came the discussion of which Horcrux would be easiest to find. Nagini came out a clear winner. Although the boy had no idea how he could really find the snake, at least he had a more tangible idea of her existence than the remaining Horcruxes.

Hermione began using her spare time, of which Harry and Ron couldn't figure out how she had any, to read about how one went about slaying a magical or charmed snake.

"You have to do it with a magical or charmed sword," Hermione explained, as though killing Nagini would be simple now they'd read about it .

The only charmed sword any of them had ever heard of was Godric Gryffindor's, which still hung in Dumbledore's old office. Harry had promised, in a tone clearly meant to humor Hermione, that if he ever stumbled upon Nagini, he would be sure to use Gryffindor's sword. At the time one seemed as unlikely as the other. However, at present, one half of the situation seemed to be coming to pass.

As Malfoy reluctantly took a seat on the hard, wooden chair in the Weasley kitchen. Harry explained that he was going to see if they could escape through the floo safely.

"Just wait here dear," Harry told the bewildered young man, in what he hoped was a calm voice. In truth it was probably just the right tone for someone who was scared to death, but trying not to frighten a child. "I won't be a moment." Of course, Harry knew that Malfoy might try to follow. But the floo, connecting directly to Hogwarts, had been charmed to only let House Elves through. And Harry and Dobby had further charmed it to let anyone with an Angelth through as well.

Harry walked quickly from the kitchen into a living room filled with gaudy print furnishings. He called out _Hogwarts_, in a clear, quiet voice as he stepped into the Weasley floo and threw a handful of powder to the hearth stones. When he arrived at the Headmistress' office the boy wasted no time dragging McGonagall's chair over so he could reach Gryffindor's sword. He grabbed it and cast a quick _Reducio_ before stowing it in the pocket of his floral print dress robes. If the portrait's of previous Heads were surprised to see Arabella Figg nicking Godric Gryffindor's sword, none gave any indication.

Harry flooed back to the Burrow, wand drawn, to see the eight year old version of Draco Malfoy standing dumbly in front of the floo with a reptile in one hand and a rodent in the other.

"We couldn't get through," Malfoy told the old woman in a worried voice.

"But of course, dear" Harry tried for a sympathetic tone. "I asked you to wait. Did something frighten you?" Harry could understand if something had. He felt like he was going to have a coronary himself.

"Just step back a moment," Harry said in his kindly old woman voice. "I'll try to recharm the floo."

Harry pushed Malfoy gently toward one of the multicolored couches, the rat and the snake still in the boy's hands. He leveled his wand first at the floo and then at the three of them, and cast a lightning fast _Finite Incantatum_. Malfoy returned to his normal age, Pettigrew ceased to be rat, and Nagini... Well Nagini got huge, but thankfully did not turn into Voldemort.

So far so good, the boy thought, as he threw quick bodybinds and a _Silencio_ on both Malfoy and Pettigrew before they could act. The boy immediately started to converse with Nagini in the soothing hiss of parseltonge.

Another topic regarding Nagini, that Harry had been thinking about but hadn't discussed with his friends, was that Voldemort could posses the snake. It had been clear to Harry when he had seen the vision of Nagini attacking Arthur Weasley in the Department of Mysteries in his fifth year. Voldermort had possessed Nagini and Harry had seen the attack through the snake's eyes.

Harry thought that possession might also mean that the snake held some of Voldemort memories. Perhaps even memories of the remaining Horcruxes. Harry knew it was a long shot. Indeed he was unsure if it was possible. He also feared Voldemort might turn up any moment having been alerted by his pet. He had to act fast if he was to act at all. He continued to speak to the snake in placid tones, and the Nagini was a bit enamored since no one save her master spoke to her thus. Harry took his wand and leveled it at the snake's head. Using the same principle that one would use to extract a single memory for examination in a pensive, Harry willed the entire contents of Nagini's memories to be emptied into his wand.

His wand grew heavy and slightly more flexible. And Harry was forced to move back as the snake's eyes grew red, and she reared back to strike in explosive anger. In a one swift movement, barely missing being impaled by her fangs, Harry loosed Gryffindor's sword while at the same time enlarging it. Just as Nagini made to sink her teeth into the fleshy part of the boy's thigh, and he was about to bring the brunt of the sword to bear down upon the graceful serpent's neck, Nagini fell dead to the floor with a sickening thud.

Harry looked at the sword. And he looked at the snake. He hadn't touched her. He hadn't...

The tiny room filled with a deafening wail. At first the boy thought it was Voldemort and felt as though his scar would burst. But when he turned to Malfoy he realized the sound was coming from him.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, POTTER!" the boy wailed, incoherently for all his volume.

Harry was uncertain whether it was Nagini dropping dead, Malfoy screaming, or Severus Snape entering the Weasley living room and leveling a look upon Harry that promised swift and sure pain that shocked him loose from his polyjuice form. The boy looked down to see it was his own hands holding Gryffindor's sword. Humiliatingly, he was still wearing the floral dress robes. He ran a hand through his hair and was assured he had changed back completely. Not wishing to die dressed thus, he quickly transfigured his clothing.

"Oh, Merlin. He's going to kill me. He's going to kill me," Malfoy sobbed when he saw the man. Harry thought the blond boy must be reading his own thoughts, but then Malfoy continued.

"Oh, please help me, Severus. He's going to _crucio_ me to death," Malfoy was almost hysterical.

"No I wasn't," Harry said defensively, upset to be accused of such a thing. "Malfoy, shut up!" Harry shouted above the boy's wailing. "I wasn't going to kill him." He addressed himself to Snape.

"Not you, _Potter_," Malfoy screamed in a disgusted tone. "The Dark Lord is going to kill me because I let you kill his pet, you stupid prat!" the boy clarified angrily. "Severus, you have to help," the blond was in tears. Harry looked horrified, and in that instant, he knew it was true. Voldemort would kill Malfoy for this.

Snape leveled a look at Harry which was unreadable, save for the fact it was rife with unpleasantness.

Gryffindor's sword still in hand, the boy rushed at the at the older wiizard. At the last moment the young man dodged past and made for the floo. Grabbing a ridiculousy large amount of powder, he threw it to the ground, and with great force he shouted.

"Hogwarts!"

The boy shot through the floo at amazing speed. Gryffindor's sword clattered noisily on the stone floor, as he tumbled end over end into the Headmistress' office. This time the portraits did react. Many of them scolded sternly about the rudeness of his entrance.

By the time Harry was able to regain his feet, Snape was already standing over him wearing a stormy expression. Not just any storm, the man's face spoke of hurricanes and tornados.

"But I didn't," Harry began when he saw the older wizard. "I mean I was gonna," he looked at the sword self-consciously. "But then Nagini just...Hermione read something about magic snakes and magic swords," the boy was babbling now and he knew it. "I used my wand, but I wasn't... I mean...I didn't mean it," Harry was dully aware of the fact that he was making a complete fool of himself. "Will he really kill Malfoy?" he finally asked in a shaky voice.

All at once something in Snape's expression hardened and then broke. Harry was completely taken off guard when the older wizard wrestled Gryffindor's sword from his grip. And pushing Harry forward across Dumbledore's old desk, Snape commenced to paddle the boy's arse with the flat of the blade.

"You arrogant, irresponsible, stupid boy," the man railed as the blade made contact with Harry's backside, as though to emphasize each adjective. While the words were familiar, the punctuation had slightly more than the usual bite.

It reminded Harry humiliating of the hidings Uncle Vernon used to visit upon his bare backside with a birch rod when he was younger. The only difference being that Harry was thankfully fully clothed. But the metal blade of Gryffindor's sword hurt ten times more than Vernon's rod.

Harry remembered the time he had accidentally performed some sort of wandless reversal spell. It had been the summer after second year and he had wished that Uncle Vernon could for once know what it felt like to be whipped. On the next lash Harry felt nothing while Uncle Vernon screamed in pain. The man tried the rod a few more times experimentally, and each time let out a little yelp. He threw the rod down in horror and fled Harry's room. Leaving the boy to pull up his pants and trousers and wonder what had happened.

It was later that same summer that Harry had accidentally blown up his Aunt Marge. Harry remembered covering a smile when his Uncle indicated he should answer yes to the rotund woman's query as to whether or not he was caned and St. Brutes, where she thought he attended school. It was all the boy could do to not laugh in the man's face. They both knew full well his days of punishing Harry in that way had come to an abrupt end. Although there was still the random cuffing about the face and head, never again were there the brutal arse whippings of Harry's youth. Until now.

As the pain intensified, Harry wondered briefly if he should try the reversal spell on Snape. And he may well have, if he were not certain the man would murder him.

It seemed an age before the man hauled him up by the arm and sent him stumbling toward the fireplace with a cruel, "Go."

Harry skidded to a halt near the floo. It hurt his pride all the more to note that many of the portraits wore smug expressions and some had even applauded.

"About Malfoy, I..." he began hoarsely, but really didn't know what to say. He looked at Snape. "It just seemed like an important opportunity. You know ... what with the snake and maybe the memories... and the Horcruxes and all."

"As articulate as ever Mr. Potter." Snape said without a trace of snide. Harry thought he recognized the man's tone as being filled with sadness as he turned to leave.

Snape stared intently at Gryffindor's sword, as the Boy-Who-Lived vanished into the fire.


	11. Severus

**Disclaimer: **Yeah, Right. I wish I did own these character's. J.K. owns the lot.

**FYI: **Chapter10 has been altered slightly because I accidently replaced it. The only major difference is the hiding takes place in the Head's office at Hogwarts after Harry tries to escape via the floo. This way the portraits were able to enjoy it too. hee hee

**Authors Notes: **Man! I could not be happier with the reviews. I really wanted to break 100. Seeing the little 104 above my story does my heart good, and inspires me to get busy.

Some of you enjoyed chapter 10, and some of you were put off by the hiding. Many of you brought up very good points. Thank you all for taking the time to read and review. I wrote responses to some of you, and in future you can find any extended A/N on my bio page. I'll leave them up for a few days.

**s1kitty: **Thanks very much for your reviews. You are not the first to suggest I need editing help. I couldn't get your email from the profile page. Shoot me a note if you have a chance. I would like to discuss it. And thanks again for your helpful input.

There is a POV shift in this chapter. You intelligent folks would have no doubt figured that out for yourselves. Enjoy.

**Chapter 11 **

**Severus**

Severus Snape cast a non-verbal sleeping charm before Obliviating the rodent's memory.

"How could you have allowed yourself to have been duped so completely?" the older wizard sneered, whirling around and questioning the blond boy sternly.

Snape knew he should not berate Draco. He knew it instinctively. Not when the boy feared for his life. The man inhaled a deep breath through his impressive nose, and attempted to control the anger and fear which gripped him. First he'd beaten Potter for the love of Merlin, and now he was making a terrible situation worse for Draco.

Snape could not believe he had done that to Potter. Draco would surely die for the loss of the snake. The wizard was almost certain. And Snape was furious with Potter for having been there in the first place. But now the moment had passed, the bizarre inappropriateness of his violence towards Potter left Snape feeling something akin to embarrassment. Not that he had not wished Hogwart's policy had allowed him to treat the impudent brat in a similar fashion more than once, especially when the boy was younger. In recent years, the tall thin wizard had contented himself with the image of his long fingers tightening ever so slowly around the boy's neck.

The astonishing lack of control that his actions indicated was what disconcerted Snape most. For most of his adult life, certainly during his time as a spy, he'd prided himself on his self-restraint, and mastery of his emotions. Admittedly the Potter brat could crack that restraint more effectively than anyone he knew. If Snape were honest, it wasn't a far thing between throwing the little sneak bodily from the pensive last year, and the slap Snape issued him a few weeks ago. The man had barely restrained himself from striking the boy after the incident with the pensive. The Potions Master just knew the brat had a good laugh with his little friends about how his foul father had humiliated Snape in that memory.

But this most recent incident would prove difficult to defend, especially to Albus. Snape had often feared the tension between he and Potter might degenerate into physical violence. Albus had warned him of it often.

"In many areas you exhibit astounding self control, Severus," the old wizard had chided gently. "Why is it so very difficult for you to show Harry a bit of tolerance?" Snape had looked as petulant as a grown man dared without making a fool of himself, and waited for the interview to be over.

Snape had agreed with the Headmaster. He had long feared that someday the boy would push too far, and Snape would lose control, and begin beating the impudent brat with his bare fists.

Severus Snape was immensely grateful that things had not turned out that way on this occasion. The brutality of using his fists would have seemed somehow unforgivable. Albus would not have forgiven it for certain. He mightn't forgive what did occur at any rate. Snape could hear the old man now. The dark haired wizard would be taken to task, and reprimanded like a fifteen year-old, for having so improperly chastised the sixteen year-old.

Albus simply adored Potter. Snape was still smarting from the stern talking to he'd received via the Angelth for making the mission to find the fake Horcrux so difficult, not to mention the tongue lashing he'd gotten for slapping the boy a few weeks ago.

"You made the task absurdly difficult," the Headmaster had accused, regarding the quest for the fake Horcrux.

"You indicated that you wished to assess the boys skills, Headmaster," the younger wizard defended himself.

"Your jealousy of Harry is most unbecoming, Severus," the Headmaster scolded in a severe tone. "It always has been."

Severus had not dared to argue, particularly since the Headmaster spoke the truth, but also because he had just received the Angelth. He was so grateful to have the Headmaster back, after a fashion, that he couldn't bear for the man to be cross with him. The dark haired wizard had also admitted, to himself if not Albus, he had purposely set the task so that one of them would have to knowingly make the other drink the potion. It had not been deadly. And Snape had the antidote close at hand as he had waited for their return that night. However, he had known without a doubt the Headmaster would not dream of forcing the potion upon his darling Harry.

The dark eyed wizard was certain he was in for a lecture of some length and harshness when Albus found out about his most recent transgression against the brat. He'll be livid, Snape realized. Snape's treatment of Harry, had been the subject of numerous lectures when they were all still at Hogwarts. Snape wished he had a galleon for every time the old man admonished him to refer to Potter by his name, and not_ boy_ or _brat_. Snape had once insisted cheekily that _brat_ suited the boy. He was treated to a stony blue eyed glare that few save the Potions Master could elicit from the kindly old wizard.

Still, Snape had to appreciate the irony of the arrogant young Gryffindor being paddled with Gryffindor's sword. Perhaps the Headmaster would not find out, Snape thought hopefully. Potter, to his credit, had not gone whining to Albus after the slap. Snape had regretted that too, after the fact. He had been extremely apprehensive about the old man's reaction to his treatment of the boy. He confessed to Albus himself before Harry had the opportunity. However, Potter and the Headmaster had a bit of a row and the subject of his mistreatment never came up.

That must have been a first, Snape had thought wryly when the Headmaster mentioned it. Harsh words between Harry, wonderful, Potter and the Headmaster were nearly unheard of. Snape had heard about the brat trashing Albus' office at the end of last school year. He was certain the Headmaster had not dealt the boy so much as a frown.

Snape thought back to a similar situation when he was fifteen. He had become distraught over the Headmaster's explanation of what his future responsibilities might entail. Snape had stood up quickly and tipped over his chair in anger. The next few minutes found him in a very painful bodybind, as he stared at his feet apologetically.

"You must learn to govern your emotions now, Severus, if you are to be successful with your future responsibilities," the Headmaster stated in a harsh paternal tone, that never failed to foster docility in the teenage Snape.

"You are never harsh with Harry though, are you Headmaster?" Severus had complained in recent years.

"You are harsh enough with him to make up for my lack, Severus," the old man had countered mildly. "And besides, Harry's disposition is much more manageable than yours was at that age."

Potter's lack of reaction today had been worthy of note Snape had to admit. Snape had struck the boy a full twelve times, and was surprised that the arrogant young man had not fought back. He had his wand for Merlin's sake. The only rationale he could piece together was that much as Potter despised the blond boy, he was disturbed by the possibility of having Draco Malfoy's blood on his hands.

And things were bound to get bloody for Draco. The Dark Lord had been looking for a reason to kill him ever since the boy had failed to murder Dumbledore. He had been looking for a reason before that if the truth be known.

Voldemort had been wanting to punish the boy for Lucius' mistakes at the Ministry the night of Black's death. And punish him he had, as only the Dark Lord could. Snape had tried shield the boy that first time the Dark Lord had summoned them after Dumbledore's death.

Snape told the dark wizard that the young man would have indeed fulfilled his master's orders and killed the old fool. But Snape himself had become impatient and pushed the boy aside. Snape humbly requested that he be punished in the boy's stead, since he was to blame.

The Dark Lord agreed. And the _Cruciatus _he subjected the man to had gone on for quite a while, as the Potions Master writhed on the stone floor. That of course had not stopped Voldemort from punishing Draco as well. Snape was forced to stand by helplessly as the young wizard's screams echoed horribly off the chamber walls.

Snape wondered numbly if Vodermort had brutalized young Malfoy worse than he may have had Severus not spoken up. After that, while no less protective, Snape had been significantly more cautious.

After doing what he could to heal the nerve spasms brought on by the extended _Cruciatus_ in both himself and the pale haired wizard that first night, Snape had cautioned the young man to keep a low profile.

"Under no circumstances attempt to curry favor with the Dark Lord," Snape had sternly cautioned, while hovering his wand over the boy and incanting a healing charm.

Draco had expressed gratitude to his to his godfather. The boy admitted significant doubt, when they were alone, as to the wisdom of his choice in joining Voldemort. He confessed to Snape that he didn't think he could have killed Dumbledore.

"That's why I worked so hard to repair the two way cabinet that would allow the Death Eaters entrance into the castle," the boy explained morosely. "I prayed one of them would kill the old fool for me. I suppose there's no turning back now is there, Professor?" Draco had asked, as he stared intently into the older wizards dark eyes.

"That is up to you, Dragon," Snape said after a pause, reverting to the boy's childhood nickname, as he placed a gentle hand on the pale head.

Draco had studiously adhered to his former professor's warning to maintain a low profile. Given his experience with Voldermort's wrath, obedience came easily. But the Dark Lord continued to seek him out. He would constantly give Draco responsibility for little assignments that were certain to fail. And punishment was certain to follow, and without fail it did.

The decoy wedding had been one such example. Of course none of the Death Eaters save Snape knew it was a decoy. All were there in hopes of capturing Potter and presenting the green-eyed wizard to their master. The young blond had been given the task of carrying Voldermort's pet snake and the rodent, Pettigrew to the wedding.

Young Malfoy was to warn the snake to summon their master if anything should happen at the event. However, he was not to dare disturb him for anything trivial. Did that mean the man should be warned only if battle broke out? Young Malfoy dared to seek clarification.

"Fool," Voldemort hissed, and _crucioed_ him. "For his stupidity," the man hissed a snake like laugh for the amusement of his gathered followers.

Apparently the rodent was to bear none of the responsibility for what constituted warning the Dark wizard. But the boy was to bid Pettigrew transfigure should the need arise. Draco had learned the morning's lesson well enough not to request the Dark wizard be more specific.

Snape ground his teeth in silence. The boy was certain to face punishment, no matter what he did. Still he would keep an eye on the young man, and promised to bear as much of the burden he dare.

To make the boy more susceptible to assault, the Dark Lord insisted on an age charm, thus making him potentially more vulnerable to attack. Snape bade the boy take a seat near the rear of the gathering. The older wizard had at first not noticed what he assumed was an elf polyjuiced as Arabella Figg, as she took a seat next to his godson. Snape realized that she must have used a strong _notice-me-not_ charm, but vaguely wondered at that because she was already disguised. Snape had hastened to follow, when polyjuiced Figg began to lead the boy off, but had been too busy dodging elf hexes to catch up immediately.

When Snape reached the backdoor of the Weasley home, he found a very put upon looking Dobby, masquerading as Molly Weasley. The elf had been magically bound to Serverus Snape just prior to the Headmaster's death. No one in the Order questioned how Dobby got his information, as it had been part of Dumbledore's final instructions. They were all simply grateful to still have a spy to tell of Voldermort's actions.

The Headmaster had thought the Elf would be an asset to both Snape and the Order, and thus far the plan had bore fruit. Albus had gone on and on thanking the little creature for temporarily sacrificing his freedom. However, as far as Snape could determine, the little elf didn't seem to mind.

"Dobby," the tall wizard addressed himself to the elf. "Do you know the identity of the elf who led Draco away?" Snape had earlier ordered Dobby to see to it that Malfoy was unharmed.

Snape watched in confusion as the little creature was shocked from his polyjuice form and began banging his head against the porch railing. Only with quick-brewed polyjuice could one be shocked or frightened into losing their form. Every since Snape had spied the golden trio in Diagon Alley purchasing potions ingredients he had his suspicions as to how the Order had managed to lay it's hands on so very much polyjuice in so little time.

"Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!" the little elf wailed plaintively, as he viciously slapped back his ears.

"Dobby, stop it at once," the tall wizard ordered, grabbing the creature's hands.

"Bad, Dobby," the elf ground out, through tightly clamped teeth, as he strained for control.

"The elf who was leading young Mr. Malfoy, Dobby," Snape interrogated intently. "Need I be concerned for the boy's safety?"

"Harry Potter would not permanently harm Master Malfoy," Dobby explained, and then began to roughly slap the side of his head.

"Harry Potter," Snape questioned darkly. "Is here?"

"Dobby... Dobby... promised..." the elf began in a halting stammer. He was obviously torn between the wizard who was his new master, and the one who granted his freedom.

"Allow no one to enter," Snape ordered in a dark tone, as he entered the back door.

Snape had been shocked to find Nagini dead, though he couldn't yet work out how it happened. Potter's faltering explanation hadn't helped much. He had babbled something about swords and Horcruxes. Snape agreed with the Headmaster's theory that Nagini was probably a Horcrux. But Potter's plan seemed haphazardly formulated at best, in spite of Potter being armed with Gryffindor's sword.

The irresponsible brat had mentioned something about memories and using his wand. Had the foolish boy been attempting to extract memories from the snake and in the process had killed her. Snape was uncertain. However, there was one thing Snape was certain of. Potter had been brash and reckless as usual, and Draco would be paying the price.

Snape waved his wand in the snake's direction and cast an _Incendio_, while Draco wrinkled his nose in disgust. If the snake was a Horcrux, it would need to be burned. They all would, once he and the Potter brat found the remaining Horcruxes. When nothing was left of Nagini's remains, Snape gazed intently at his godson. When their eyes met he noticed the young wizard looked vaguely ashamed.

"You're right," the young man began. "I shouldn't have let myself be so easily fooled."

"I regret that I said that," Snape told the boy. He knew he should not have berated the boy about allowing himself to be taken in by Potter. "I will alter your memory so it matches the rat's," he explained to Draco. "You will both have the memory of waking up with the snake and the woman having disappeared. Perhaps if it appears as though you have both been fooled, Pettigrew may share the burden of the Dark Lord's punishment."

Draco dared to look a bit reassured, as the older wizard cast a non-verbal sleeping charm followed by an _Obliviate_.

"That bitch," Pettigrew spat, looking around frantically as Snape re-entered the room and canceled the sleeping charms. "She must have stolen Master's snake." he turned his rat like eyes on Draco.

"Wha...," the boy began in confusion. "How could she?" Draco asked groggily. "Did you see her when you came in?" the boy asked Severus. Draco was slightly less frantic than he had been after having witnessed Potter kill the snake.

"I saw no one," Snape lied smoothly. "However, you were both under a sleeping charm when I entered.

"Ooooh," Pettigrew cackled, with entirely too much glee. "Master isn't going to be pleased with you is he?" the rodent giggled cruely.

"As I indicated," Snape sneered menacingly. "You were both asleep. I have no doubt the Dark Lord will be displeased with you as well."

The rat looked slightly uncertain, and fell silent, as Snape canceled the bodybinds Potter had placed on them earlier. Snape disillusioned the three of them before they made there way outside. The battle was drawing to a close. The elves had transported some of the Death Eaters to Azkaban, while others had apparated away to lick their wounds.

Snape canceled the charm when they reached the edge of the wards, and the rodent was quick to apparate. As Snape made to follow, Draco bade him to wait a while.

"There was nothing I could have done today that wasn't going to get me _crucioed_," the boy looked at his godfather expectantly. "Was there?"

"No, I don't think there was," Snape agreed, studying the boy.

"If I survive today," Draco began in a strained voice. "I think I want to... I think... I might like to fight for the light. Please here me out," the boy said holding up a hand to forestall his godfather's interruption. "I just know there's more to what happened with you and Dumbledore than your letting on," he accused. "I heard you that night."

Snape looked at the boy sharply. He thought he knew what the boy was referring to, but how could the pale haired wizard have heard? Snape had held his tears at bay as long as he dared. Then casting an extemely complex silencing charm, he had cried himself into the night. The man had cried in grief, regret, and no small amount of shame, for having been capable of carrying out the terrible orders of the finest wizard he ever knew.

"Wormtail was laughing," Draco explained. "You told him to shut his miserable mouth, and that he wasn't fit to kiss the hem of Dumbledore's robes."

Snape let out a relived breath as he realized the incident the boy was referring to. He had rounded on the rodent in a darkly menacing way, and for the second time that night he thought he might manage an Avada Kedavra.

The blond boy began to pace a bit. "You can't tell me that at least part of you doesn't regret killing the old fool," the boy looked at Snape intently. "And what the bloody hell was he begging for? Since when does Dumbledore beg?"

Snape gave his godson a look that was equal parts of shock and pride.

"Please don't look at me like that," he said, misinterpreting the man's expression. "Maybe I'm wrong," he paused in thought. "Father always said being a Death Eater was supposed to make us powerful and honorable. But Vol.. Volde... _Voldemort_," the boy looked up defiantly upon managing the name. "He's just a sick sadistic bastard and we're his bloody slaves," Draco took a deep breath. "I want out," the young man said, in a determined voice. "I have to find a way out. Now I'm not asking that you come with me, but please don't stand in my way."

Severus raised his hand to the boy. Draco shrank a bit, thinking perhaps he had gone too far, and his godfather meant to cuff him for his insolence. But instead, strong thin fingers laced through the soft hairs at the back of the boy's head, and Severus gave Draco's neck an affectionate squeeze. The gesture reminded Draco of days gone by, when he had been Dragon, and the wizard who stood before him was Uncle Sev.

**_Hope you enjoyed it. Please review._**


	12. Nagini

**Disclaimer**: Um...No...That would be J.K. Rowling. 

**Authors Notes**: Thanks very much for reviewing my fic. It really helps to get immediate feedback, and I appreciate you all very much.

**Enjoy.**

**Chapter 12 **

**Nagini**

Before they apparated to Voldemort's hideout, Snape had cautioned Draco to clear his mind. He had been training the boy in Occlummency, picking up the instruction where the crude attempt of the boy's aunt, Bellatrix, began during the school year.

Snape had been dismayed to discover that Bellatrix had not opened a sympathetic pathway between she and Draco, as was usual when one instructed a relative. Establishing the pathway had been easy enough for Snape, as he and Draco had developed a strong bond when the boy was just a toddler. The pathway meant that while Draco and Snape may be able to occlude their thoughts from others, it would be impossible for one to deceive the other while concentrating along the pathway.

"We will speak of your doubts later," he told the boy firmly. "But you mustn't let the Dark Lord see these thoughts regarding your loyalty to him in your mind." Snape stated, regarding Draco's declaration that he wanted out of his service to the Dark Lord.

"You're not angry with me are you?" Draco wanted to know.

"I will be if you don't clear your mind you little dunderhead," Snape answered in stern irritability. "Now focus and do as you're told. It will be enough of a job saving your hide regarding Nagini, never mind this newest development."

After only a few short weeks of training Draco in Occlumency, he was already much more adept than Potter could ever dream of being. Of course to be fair, Snape had been training Draco with the more traditional method of Occlumency. It was the way parents who were Occlumens taught their children, the way Albus had taught him. But for this method to be effective there needed to be a certain amount of trust and love.

Despite there being no pathway between he and Potter. The boy had been able to send a message into Snape's mind the night Black was killed. Potter had fairly screamed into silent comprehension.

_**"They've got Sirus in the Department of Mysteries!"**_

Snape had later regretted that he hadn't sent something reassuring back. The boy was a natural Legillimens, and would have gotten it. But Severus had been too busy wondering how the boy had gotten into his mind, when no pathway had been established. And there certainly wasn't anything remotely similar to love or trust between the two. Albus had confided, after Potter's lessons had ended in disaster, that he had hoped that such a bond might develop between Snape and the boy as the lessons progressed.

"You are a daft old man aren't you, Albus," Snape had barked in mirthless laughter.

"Not at all dear boy," the Headmaster had countered, offering a lemon drop. "You and Harry have similar backgrounds, as you surely have noticed. And I think it is impossible to spend time with the boy and not find him likable," the Headmaster had fixed Snape with an affectionate blue-eyed gaze. "I also think the same to be true of you, Severus," the eyes twinkled madly at this. "Although with you it is hidden significantly beneath the surface."

Severus had flushed slightly at the affectionate tone, so rare since Potter had come to Hogwarts, and less frequent still since Voldemort returned to power. Severus longed for the days when Albus used to summon him for tea unexpectedly. Often it was for no other reason than to catch up on how the younger wizard was getting on. Sometimes it would be to give him a good telling of for something he had done wrong.

No matter the topic, Albus had always managed to end these teas on a positive note that made Snape feel confidence in the Headmaster's feelings for him. Things had changed in recent times. Not only was there usually no tea at their meetings, the only thing Severus felt confident about afterwards was that the Headmaster was disappointed in him.

"I found him snooping in the pensive, Headmaster," Snape had explained miserably, regarding why he had decided to end Harry's Occlumency lessons. All the while he was trying not to sound like he was whining, and failing miserably.

"And for that you discontinued his lessons?" the Headmaster's tone had been both stern and incredulous.

"But, you don't know which memory he saw, Albus," Snape had told the older wizard. The whining tone growing more obvious.

"I need not know, Severus," the Headmaster admonished, though his tone was not severe. This surprised Severus, and reminded him of earlier times because he had fully expected Albus to lay into him. "You are the adult, Severus. It is high time you began behaving like one."

Dumbledore had gone on to say that if Snape had caught Harry up to such mischief, he should have given him consequences, reasonable ones, and been done with it. He insisted that Snape's reasons for ending the Occlumency lessons were insufficient.

"That is how adults behave, Severus," the Headmaster's tone was still gentle, despite the obvious rebuke.

Perhaps that is what he would tell Albus when he found out about the hiding he'd given his precious Potter, Snape thought wryly, as Draco cleared the last of his thoughts and the two prepared to apparate. He would tell the old man that he had been trying to be the adult, and the consequences he had meted out had seemed reasonable at the time. Wouldn't that just go over like a dung bomb in the dining room?

"Are you prepared?" Snape asked Draco. He scanned the boy's thoughts and was satisfied with what he saw.

Snape's first order of business when they reached Voldemort's lair would be to see to it that Pettigrew, and himself if necessary took as much responsibility for losing Nagini as possible. As Voldemort would not be anxious to kill two of his senior members with so many in Azkaban, even before today, chances were he would be forced to spare Draco as well.

Pettigrew was waiting for them when they apparated at the entrance to the stone encampment, as Snape knew he would be. All of the Dark Lord's followers knew of their master's tendency to severely punish the bearer of bad news.

"Let us seek audience with our master shall we?" said Snape smoothly, as he took the lead. Wormtail, for his part, brought up the rear, his nose twitching mournfully in anticipation of things to come.

In all his years, Snape had never seen another Death Eater who acted a bigger coward than Pettigrew in the face of Voldemort's wrath. Even young Draco managed chastisement with more dignity. The rodent would crawl about on his belly and wail, begging the master not punish him further, all the while professing his love and obedience. It was both disgusting and fascinating to watch. And of course, Voldemort loved that sort of thing, and he never seemed to hit the rat with anything near full force. It had been a while since Snape had caught Pettigrew's act, and he had to admit he was rather looking forward to it. Even if he too might be subjected to substantial unpleasantness during the course of events.

It was with this thought in mind that Severus entered what the Death Eater's referred to as _The Throne Room_. It was so named because of the enormous throne which stood at the room's center. The stone chair was grotesquely carved with detailed images of snakes in a variety of threatening poses: fangs bared, devouring vermin, and sinking ravenously in to fleshy bits of human looking appendages. The first thing that Snape noticed was that Voldemort was not in his usual seat, and the throne stood empty at the center of the damp, cavernous chamber.

Many of the Dark Lord's number had not been assigned to the raid at the Burrow, as intelligence had reported Potter would not attend. Those who had stayed behind congregated around the returning Death Eaters. Some were offering comfort to the injured, but most leveled insults and further torment in typical Death Eater fashion.

"Professor," called one young man. Palini. Severus recognized the Slytherin, as one of his former students who had joined the Dark Lord just after leaving Hogwarts last year. It always jarred Severus slightly when his former pupils-turned-Death Eaters referred to him as _Professor_ or _Sir_. Although he didn't know what else they might call him, as he had never invited any, save Draco, to use his given name. And he would certainly teach them a hex they'd not soon forget, if any attempted to call him Snape.

Severus always made certain to show these former students as much disdain as he would a freshly sorted Gryffindor, even if they had been some of his favorites at school. Many of these youngsters were confused and hurt by his treatment of them, and few would have guessed it was actually due to his disappointment at their stupidity in joining Voldemort. However, as any of the Death Eaters would attest, Severus was always generous with healing potions. Unlike most of their number, he would never heap further suffering on one who was injured.

"Professor," Palini asked, with all the vulnerability of a first year. "It's my arm, Sir. Can you help?"

Snape examined the charred appendage and incanted a healing charm while offering one of the small vials of the pain reliever he always carried on missions.

"Where is the Dark Lord?" Snape asked the boy curtly. Voldemort was usually front and center following a mission. Offering rewards and chastisements at random and generally far too many of the latter.

"He is in his chambers," the young man informed. "Bellatrix is with him."

Snape heard the rodent, who was just off his to his left, give a lusty chuckle. Draco, for his part, looked slightly ill. He was still repulsed by the Dark Lord's habit of bedding any of his Death Eaters who were the current fancy.

"No," Palini addressed Wormtail, covering his own small grin. "I think she is being chastised. She has been in his chambers for a while and was out her a moment ago in tears."

Snape thought about the Dark Lord's personal chambers distastefully, with its brutal, crass furnishings. The walls were adorned with both muggle and magical instruments of torture. Voldemort sometimes ordered his servants there for private chastisement. It would usually be of a more humiliating variety than might be conducted before the general populace of followers. Young Malfoy looked even more ill if possible, as he had already spent substantial time in the Dark Lord's chambers. Snape himself had been invited there on occasion as well.

"She said you were to bring Nagini as soon as you arrived Draco. Then she went back in." Palini continued.

Malfoy cast his godfather a worried glance

"You just mind you tell Master it was all your fault," Wormtail warned Malfoy.

"Why don't you run tell him yourself, Wormtail," Malfoy returned in a syrupy tone. "Or better yet. tag along to make sure I get the story right."

Wormtail was clearly torn. He feared being in close proximity to his master when the news about Nagini was delivered, yet also feared it might be blamed on him, if he stayed behind. The rodent finally turned on his heel an stalked away.

"Be careful, Draco," Snape warned. "That is a dangerous game you are playing at."

The younger man scoffed.

"It is true the rat is a coward," Snape agreed. "But you would be unwise to underestimate his ability for deviousness and revenge, Draco," Snape explained sternly

Draco reddened slightly at the admonishment, and was preparing a rather arrogant response, when he noticed his aunt, Bella, beckoning from the small alcove near the entrance to the master's personal chambers.

The young man's demeanor changed immediately, and he wore an expression Severus had seen many times before. In his head, Snape had always referred to this expression as the boy's delicate dragon face. He used see the expression often before the boy came to Hogwarts, when Draco needed to escape Lucius' rage for some infraction that had to Lucius' way of thinking disgraced the name of Malfoy. Severus had always stepped in when he could, helping the boy explain his side of things to the older Malfoy.

In the years since Hogwarts, Draco donned the expression like clockwork prior to grading periods and Quidditch matches when Lucius was inclined to deliver severe hexings, if the boy did not outperform Potter and Granger. The elder Malfoy regularly asked to use Severus' dungeon office to punish Draco after Gryffindor, Slytherin Quidditch matches, and Severus would stick up for Draco. Often he'd manage to calm Lucius down, never quite getting him to forgo the boy's punishment altogether, but usually managing to get the older Malfoy to lessen the severity. Invariably Lucius would insist.

"You're his godfather, Severus, for the love of Merlin, and his head of house as well, " the elder Malfoy would complain. "I should think you'd be inclined to discipline him yourself during the school year for his deplorable performance."

Severus didn't say that he was sorely tempted and often did, but not for the reasons that Lucius was concerned about. Draco's general attitude and failure to think before he acted were enough to make the Potions Master want to hex him to within an inch of his life. But to Lucius, Snape would insist that the boy's academic performance wasn't deplorable. He'd try to make it clear how diligently Draco applied himself to his studies, and how seriously the boy took Quidditch. Severus had even stuck up for Draco when he lied to Lucius, telling him that Granger got her grades by cheating.

"Well, I've never _caught _her at it," Severus had said in such a way that conveyed there would be hell to pay if he ever did.

And although his uncle never quite managed to get him out of hot water completely, Severus' efforts did serve to strengthen the relationship between he and Draco. That was in part what made the boy feel somewhat safe as the two approached Bellatrix as she beckoned with more urgency.

"Master has taken ill," Bellatrix Lestrange informed as she urged them further into the recess of the alcove, tears streaking her cruel visage. "Tell no one," she ordered, fixing Snape with a dangerous glare.

Snape looked at the witch as though she had mysteriously began to speak a language he was not familiar with.

"What do you mean _ill_?" Snape queried, as though the word were foreign and vaguely difficult to pronounce.

"He is weakened," Bellatrix clarified, in a horrified whisper.

Snape, for his part, still looked as though he was only understanding every third word.

"He's been asking for Nagini, Draco," the witch continued, wringing her hands, and looking at her nephew. "He seems to think his illness is in some way related to the snake."

The young man cut a sidelong glance at his uncle, and swallowed hard.

Snape could not offer much by way of guidance. An ill, weakened Voldemort was also outside his realm of experience.

"I don't have her," Draco explained in a voice that didn't quite sound like his own. "Nagini was stolen."

Bellatrix looked as though she had suspected as much.

"He sleeps now," the woman continued. "You must tell no one!" she hissed again, fixing both wizards with a desperate glare. "Severus," she said to Snape in a pleading tone. "Perhaps there is some potion...?"

"Of course Bella," Severus affirmed, inclining his head. "I must see him."

As the three approached the Dark Lord, it was evident that Bellatrix had spoken the truth. The wizard looked shades paler, and his breathing was slightly labored. He reclined among the dark sheets and blanket, on a bed whose four posts were fashioned in the likeness of gigantic basilisks. Four fierce heads met in the center, meters above the shallow rise and fall of the Dark Lord's chest. Somehow he still managed to look menacing, despite the fact that several black satiny pillows supported his head.

With his wand hand, which trembled slightly, Snape ran a quick diagnostic.

"This is no doubt related to the Dark Lord's connection with Nagini," Snape said as they exited the personal chambers. "Perhaps a restorative potion of the type I brewed when he first returned to his body would be useful," he told an anxious looking Bellatrix. "I shall begin at once."

Snape had every intention of beginning at once, but he wasn't quite certain what he should begin doing, and desperately wanted to confer with Albus.

"We don't want the others to get suspicious just yet," Snape said, turning to Draco and indicating the assembled Death Eaters. "Move among them. Distribute these as needed," Snape reached inside his robes and handed Draco several vials of pain relief potion. "Keep the rumor alive that Bella's being chastised to explain the Dark Lord's absence at present. Explain to them about Nagini being lost, and tell them that you're going to be punished later. This should give everyone something to look forward to," Snape said ruefully, as the blond boy paled. "Go," he ordered, tousling the young man's hair affectionately. "Meet me in the potion's lab when you've made the rounds."

Snape entered the potion's laboratory, which differed from his lab at Hogwarts in that in that the stores were well stocked with illegal ingredients and the shelves with illegal books.

After warding the door and casting a strong silencing charm as well as a _Mufulatio_, Severus opened the Angelth.

**_Hope you liked it. Please review_.**


	13. Crucio

**Disclaimer**: Not mine! How many times do I hafta tell ya? The woman's name is, J.K. Rowling, and she is apparently into the initials thing, like S.E. Hinton, only different. Besides she lives in England, or Scotland, or someplace cool like that. Me? No. For the thirteenth time, I'm not her. 

**Authors Note**: Reviews are good! Keep 'em coming.

**Enjoy.**

**Chapter 13 **

**Crucio**

After the Headmaster's usual pleasant greeting, Snape was quick to fill him in on what had transpired that day. Severus thought he saw the older wizard's expression harden briefly when he first mentioned Potter's presence at the Burrow, but then the look was gone. In an effort not to mention the hiding he'd given the boy, Snape inadvertently made Potter's actions seem well thought out and reasonable. And in view of the effect those actions had on the Dark Lord, it was hard to fault the boy's conduct.

"Perhaps I should end the Dark Lord now, Albus," Snape suggested. "We may never have another opportunity like this.

"That was not to have been your role, Severus," the Headmaster said after a moment. "The prophesies are quite clear."

"It would be so simple with a potion, Headmaster," Snape couldn't quite give up on the idea.

"Would he not make you test the potion first, Severus?" the Headmaster asked. "He normally does as I recall."

"I'm sure he would," Snape admitted. "But that would be of little consequence, Headmaster. Afterall the prophesies say nothing of that."

Snape remembered the evening he had heard Potter's prophecy, approximately eleven years after hearing of his own. Severus had come to the Hog's Head Inn because he had heard the Headmaster was to be there, and he wanted to try to apologize again. But when he realized Dumbledore meant to visit Sybil Trelawney he changed his mind. Severus knew that Trelawney's great-great grandmother had made his own prophecy many years prior. When Dumbledore went up the stairs to meet with Trelawney, Snape thought she might be passing on information that concerned him, and decided to listen in.

As he crouched uncomfortably by the keyhole of his future colleague's hotel room, Severus quickly realized that he was listening to a fairly boring job interview. Then, as he turned to go, something in the woman's voice changed, and Severus realized he was hearing a prophecy. However, it was not his prophecy, but rather that of another child and the Dark Lord. Again he decided to leave, wishing he had never come, and incredibly nervous about the Headmaster's reaction if he were to be found out for having listened in.

When Snape had turned to go the second time, he realized that someone had a firm grip on his collar. The ensuing scuffle brought the door open, and Snape found himself face to face with the Headmaster. Not a word was uttered aloud. But when Snape made eye contact with the angry blue-eyed wizard, the Headmaster began to severely upbraid him via their Occlumency pathway.

"How dare you, Severus," the Headmaster scolded silently along the link. "I am thoroughly disappointed in you. Leave my sight this instant."

Snape had a bit of help with the order to leave the Headmaster's sight. The man who had hold of his collar began to drag him down the stairs and promptly threw him out the door on his arse.

Sitting in the street, the Headmaster's words rang in his ears. This had been just one incident on the list of harsh disagreements that had passed between the two in recent weeks.

Things had come to a head when Snape had complained a few weeks prior, after an Order of the Phoenix meeting, that he was fed up with the Marauder's constant abuse. He claimed the Headmaster let their deplorable behavior go unchecked at the meetings, just as he always had at Hogwarts.

"I am risking more for you than any of them," Severus had. complained in a hurt, angry tone. "I'll eventually have to take the Mark, Headmaster. And you let Black and his merry band of thugs treat me like dirt and call me disloyal, and coward. If you would only tell them of my true role, Headmaster..."

"You are not risking anything for me, Severus," Albus had cut across him gently. "You are working for the Light. You are doing your duty according to prophecy. You are completing responsibilities you have been training for since the age of eleven."

Snape had reacted in anger. It always came back to the bloody prophecy. He spoke without really thinking, lashing out in frustration from years of the Marauder's abuse. The Headmaster always stuck up for them, though he claimed to love Severus like a son.

"To hell with the prophecy, Headmaster, and to hell with you," Snape had screamed in barely controlled rage. "I get more respect from the Dark Lord. Perhaps I shall join him in earnest."

The hand that rose to strike Severus across the face was lightening fast. But then, when the Headmaster had trained him, he had demanded his reactions be lightening fast as well. Severus caught the Headmaster's hand just before it made contact with his pale cheek.

Severus stared at the hand, which had never before been raised against him with any intent save gentleness. Severus shamefully replayed his own words in his mind. He had yelled at Albus. He swore at him. He had threatened to join the Dark Lord in earnest, not just as a spy. With a sickening sensation, Severus wanted nothing more than to fall on his knees kissing the gentle, old hand and beg the Headmaster's forgiveness. Before he could however, the hand did make gentle contact with his face.

"Go, Child," the Headmaster had ordered firmly. "Join your Dark Lord if you find more respect there. Come back to me when you come back to yourself. Come back to me when the fact that I love you like my own is enough to withstand the petty torment of others. Return only when you are man enough to fulfill your responsibilities."

And Albus had turned his back on him

Snape had come back many times and tried to apologize. Each time Albus had informed him that he did not yet seem ready. He felt the Headmaster was punishing him, and could not argue that he didn't deserve it. For months he drifted and eventually took the Mark. He would have had to at any rate. He did terrible things. Things he didn't think Albus could ever forgive. It was not until after the Potter's had been murdered that Severus arrived and looked the Headmaster in the eyes. He said he was ready to fulfill his responsibilities, and begged to be allowed to do so, and Albus embraced him and welcomed him home.

It was during one of these early failed attempts to apologize that found Severus at the Hog's Head, hearing Potter's prophecy, and thinking about his own. Neither prophecy said anything about Snape's survival being a necessary requirement.

"It would be of little consequence if he makes me test the potion first, Headmaster," Snape argued the point of poisoning Voldemort while he was still in a weakened state from the loss of Nagini. "There is nothing in my prophecy that says I am to survive. It would give Potter a chance to find and destroy the remaining Horcruxes.

"I believe Harry will still require assistance in finding the remaining Horcruxes at any rate. And your life is of immense consequence to me, Child," Albus said firmly via the Angelth. "We'll have no more of this particular argument if you please."

"What are your orders then?" Snape sighed audibly, but knew better than to argue when Albus took that tone and called him child.

Albus advised that he was to brew a restorative potion and they were to proceed as they had always planned. When Snape confided that Draco's life might be in danger regarding Nagini, and that the young man had expressed a desire to leave Voldemort's service, Albus told Snape to do all he could to preserve the boy's life. He said that he had every faith in the man before the Angelth closed.

Later that night after the restorative potion had taken affect, Voldemort had taken his usual seat in the center of The Throne Room. The Death Eaters were ordered to assemble in full regalia. Snape noticed that Wormtail, who had exited chambers with Voldemort and Bella, looked a bit misty eyed, behind his mask. Though whether it was from missing his master or fear of punishment was anyone's guess.

"Where is Nagini?" Voldemort addressed himself to Draco in voice that was menacing, despite his earlier weakness.

"Master," Draco said falling on both knees before the throne and removing his mask. "I regret that your pet has been stolen," the blond boy had barely gotten the words out completely before the Dark Lord uttered.

"_Crucio_," his voice was full of anger.

Malfoy's reaction was delayed and may have been comic given a different situation. Still kneeling, head down, he brought his pale brows together and inclined his head almost imperceptibly toward the Dark Lord who sat above him. Then he looked out of the corner of his eye at Snape. The boy wore a barely perceptible smirk that was suddenly full of Slytherin cunning. Severus' heart began to beat rapidly.

"I'm sorry my lord," Draco said in a voice that Snape recognized from long familiarity as mock innocence. "It was Potter, My Lord. Potter stole Nagini,"

Snape's head shot up at that. What the devil was the fool boy playing at? He had eliminated Draco's memories as to Potter and the snake. Snape shot his godson a warning look, and the color began to rise to the Dark Lord's face.

Draco continued rapidly, as Snape scanned the surface of the younger wizard's mind. The only thing he could detect was an intense loathing for Potter that was genuine. Snape scanned the circle of Death Eaters. Draco must have spent significant time spreading this story during the afternoon, because everyone Snape focused on had a convincing image of the Potter stealing the snake.

"He was disguised as an old woman, and then he transfigured. He hit me from behind with a stunner, My Lord," Draco continued, as Voldemort's breathing became a bit distressed, and Wormtail looked on in dumb confusion.

"Wha'..?" the rodent said, as though he couldn't believe he had missed that.

"I immediately alerted Wormtail, so he could transfigure. But Wormtail didn't want to chase Potter, My Lord. He said it was too risky."

"Wha..?" Wormtail sputtered again. "I did not, Master. He's lying," the rodent looked at Snape for confirmation. "I don't remember..." he began, then clamped his mouth shut.

"You did so, you coward," Malfoy insisted in convincing anger.

"Did not!" Wormtail denied, looking confused and slightly desperate.

"Did too!"

"He did, Master," Snape put in finally, taking a step toward Draco. "He admitted it just prior to our return.

Voldemort threw out two _Cruciatus_ in succession, hitting both Snape and Malfoy. And then quite unexpectedly he threw his head back and began to scream Potter's name. The sound was blood curdling, but gave Snape and Malfoy an opportunity to exchange a significant look regarding the _Cruciatus _they had each been dealt. It was as though they had been cursed by a feeble, aged grandfather, who while meaning the rebuke in earnest, hadn't the strength to raise even a tickle. Voldemort was severely weakened, Snape realized as he watched the man. He wondered if he knew himself how diminished his magic was.

The question was answered in the next few moments when the Dark Lord brought his head forward. The man's eyes were slightly glossy and distant, Severus noted. They looked as they did when the Dark Lord was attempting to posses someone.

"Now my faithful servantssss," Voldemort hissed nastily. "I shall give you the pleasure of punishing this incompetent young fool who has failed me yet again."

"But what of Wormtail, My Lord?" Draco was emboldened to ask after the weak _Cruciatus_. "He is as much to blame as I, perhaps more so."

There was a ripple of agreement among the Death Eaters Snape noted, though they only had Draco's word to go on. The boy had planted that seed well the man thought with pride.

"Silence," Voldemort shouted, though he threw no curse. This meant either he knew his curses were weak, or using them was weakening him further, Snape decided.

"I beg My Lord's indulgence," Snape began with care. Voldemort adored a fawning subservient address. "But should Wormtail not be punished also?" Snape questioned with mock concern. "I pray you forgive my impertinence, My Lord. But I am deeply angered by the incompetence of both these wizards?"

"Ah Ssseverusss, my faithful, Wormtail is to be chastised privately," he said with a wicked sneer. "We have already begun, have we not, my sweet?" the Dark Lord addressed Wormtail who flinched slightly.

"Your obedient servant, My Lord," the rodent said in a quailing voice.

"But with this worthless young whelp," Voldemort indicated Draco with a curt gesture. "I wish you all indulge your greatest appetites, and amuse me. Pleassse Ssseverusss, do take your place in the circle," the Dark Lord bade him take a step back. "Begin," the Dark Lord commanded Bella, from her place nearest the throne.

With a look of pure glee, she raised her wand a sent a curse at Draco that made him fall to the floor writhing in pain. It seemed an age before she lifted it, and stepped back with a satisfied giddy smirk that made Snape want to slowly crush her wind pipe.

Snape's turn would come all too soon, yet he would not curse Draco. He could not. Damn Albus for always insisting he do the impossible. Severus tried to numb his mind to the boy's screams and formulate a plan. After seven more Death Eaters had their way with the boy it would be his turn to act. But act how? Do what? Draco's screams were becoming more intense. Severus just stood there willing something good to happen. It was a game he often played as a child.

All of a sudden, Severus began to feel a faint rippling of magic surrounding him. It grew stronger until it reached a kind of crescendo, and then, as though in answer to what he had hoped, there before him stood Harry Potter. The boy was shirtless, barefoot, and wearing baggy pajama bottoms. Severus noticed that his scar bled freely, as the boy quickly spun away. Potter ran and slid along the stone floor on his hip and arse toward Draco as muggles do in baseball. Snape couldn't help but think that this maneuver had to smart a bit given the treatment the boy had received earlier. If it did however, Potter gave no indication as he arrived at his target and enveloped Draco in a sort of loose embrace.

The assembled Death Eaters didn't know what to make of this half naked apparition.

But for Snape's part, and this did shock him greatly, he thought Potter looked rather like an angel as he wrapped his pale, strong arms around Draco pulling them both into a standing position.

"The Dark Lord is weakened," he sent out to Potter via his mind, though there was no link between them, and he wasn't sure if Potter would hear it. Yet if the boy did hear it, he was uncertain what he wished him to do with the information.

After a moment it was clear Potter had heard him, as the boy fixed his clear green-eyed gaze upon the Dark Lord. At first, Snape was both horrified and impressed that the boy would think to do such a thing. Holding Draco firmly in his arms, Potter sent out a wave of love for this boy who was his enemy, directly into the Dark Lord's mind.

And as Potter and Malfoy apparated away, Lord Voldemort began to howl.

_**Hope you enjoyed it. Don't forget to review.**_


	14. Potter Part I

**Disclaimer: **These characters are all mine. Bwahahaha. Just kidding. They belong to J.K.

Many thanks to my awesome reader, who is also a writer. Go check out _The Birthday Present_ if you are not already a fan. Thanks a bunch, **excessivelyperky**.

**A/N: **Thanks so much for reviewing. The instant feed back really fuels the writing process.

Enjoy

**Chapter 14**

**Potter Part I**

With a practiced flick of his wand Severus Snape cast an _Alohomora_, gaining access to the back entrance of Number Four Privet Drive. The tall, thin wizard warily made his way through the dark, empty kitchen into a sitting room. He found his way to the stairs, which would lead him to the upstairs bedrooms.

Snape found himself unsettled by the familiarity of the house, having seen it during Potter's Occlumency training. The man stopped briefly to examine a small square of a door that recessed into the side of the stairway. He remembered the doorway and cupboard beyond from Potter's mind. The boy had been put in there as punishment from what Severus had been able to piece together. Snape was reminded hauntingly of the tiny attic crawl space where his own madman of a muggle sire would send him with assurances that he would never amount to anything.

Severus shook himself free of such thoughts as he silently mounted the stairs. His first order of business was to find Potter and Draco and see to it that they were both safe. Although, Snape felt somewhat inclined to murder The-Boy-Who-Lived, for his annoying Gryffindor stupidity. More than once during the evening, Snape toyed with the fantasy of retrieving Gryffindor's sword for his coming interview with the boy. He considered it as he saw the Dark Lord off to the new hideout, convinced Death Eaters as to their master's speedy recovery, intimidated those who would use his weakness to their advantage, and cringed at the thought of how very many things could have gone wrong with Potter's stunt.

The first door to the to right at the top of the stairs revealed an extremely untidy room. The shelving was filled with muggle electronic gadgetry. Clothing littered the floor along with magazines and crisps wrappers, the Potions Master noted distastefully. A talking head babbled silently from a muggle television screen, and tiny space ships zipped around a similar screen that Snape knew was a computer. Against one wall, a rather large form snored loudly from a twin bed. The form's size made clear this was not Potter's room. It must be that of the boy's cousin, the one who liked to play at Harry hunting, Snape recalled from the memories. _Potter's own personal Marauder_, Snape thought with a dispassionate smirk.

Snape wrinkled his nose in disgust as the large boy shifted positions and passed gas loudly, as well as made a distinctly pig-like snuffling noise. The wizard closed the door hastily, pursing his lips as he tried the room across the hall. This room was orderly, but modest, and felt like a bit of a cell. The small window above the child-sized wooden desk complimented the effect. The obviously lumpy single bed stood empty against one wall.

This was Potter's room. Snape knew both from memory, and the decidedly magical energy that permeated the space. However, he had no idea where Potter was, let alone where he had taken Draco. Standing at the threshold, Snape frowned deeply, and wondered if the boy would have risked taking Malfoy to Arabella Figg's. After taking several uncertain steps into the room, the magical energy heightened, and the room changed. Snape's eyes narrowed as he found himself in a comfortable little sitting room, with a matching couch and love seat. He realized abruptly that the room must have been transfigured and disillusioned.

A small kitchenette sat off to the side, and there were three doors surrounding the siting area. Straight ahead, on a small table, was another muggle television set with the same talking head that was on in the large boy's bedroom. To the side and behind the T.V., one door was open which allowed Snape to see the empty bedroom beyond. The walls were adorned with Quidditch posters. The Chuddley Cannons, Snape decided, due to the over-abundance of orange.

A tall, lank figure stretched out on the couch. Snape recognized Ronald Weasley from the head of hair that very nearly matched the posters, and rested comfortably on two plaid throw pillows. From the gentle rise and fall of the boy's chest, Snape could tell he was sleeping, and deduced the empty room was his.

Quietly stepping away from the boy, Snape silently opened the door just to the right of the T.V. This room belonged to a female. There was a distinct frill about the bed coverings, and a soft pink night light glowed from the open door of the loo. The mass of bushy hair that peeked from atop the lacy comforter told him the figure was probably that of Miss Granger. Snape remembered now that Albus had said the trio were staying at Potter's home. The dark-haired wizard's frown deepened. He wasn't confident they were completely safe here after what Potter had pulled at Voldemort's lair.

With only one door remaining, Snape was fairly certain that he had found Potter's room. When the locked door failed to respond to his _Alohomora_, Snape realized the room must be warded. After several attempts to disarm it ended in frustration, Severus decided to employ the same method Albus informed him Potter had used to find Snape in Voldemort's hideout. Placing his hand around the Angelth at his neck, Severus silently bade it find its twin. The magical energy around him began to ripple, and as it reached a kind of crescendo, he found himself standing in front of the sleeping form of Harry Potter.

The older wizard turned in relief to find Draco who lay across from Potter, on the only bed in the room. As Snape let out a ragged breath he hadn't realized he had been holding, he ran a medical diagnostic with his wand. Snape could easily detect the areas where Potter had done a competent job of tending Draco's injuries. The blond boy had already suffered far worse than this in his service to the Dark Lord, Snape reminded himself, as he struggled to squash any doubts as to the boy's full recovery.

Potter was stretched out in a chair, a book opened to a chapter on wandless healing magic lay in his lap. He looked exhausted but unharmed. Snape was relieved to see that the lightening-shaped scar on his forehead no longer bled, as the older wizard clinically pushed aside a mass of messy black hair. Severus took a moment to run a diagnostic on Potter as well. Possession by Voldemort, along with the wandless healing, had diminished the boy's strength. A magic replenisher potion of the type Snape should have suggested brewing for the Dark Lord, but had not, should easily stimulate the boys magic when he awoke. Withholding the potion from the Dark Lord would buy them precious little time, however, as Bella and Wormtail were to have kidnapped a healer from St. Mungos on their way to the new chambers.

Severus had made quick work of establishing a leadership role among the Death Eaters after Potter's departure. Under the guise of helping his master, Snape had ordered all the Dark Lord's followers to leave and not return to the encampment as security had been breached. He bade them see to the security of their own homes from the Order and Aurors, and await the Dark Lord's summons. They had obeyed, and Voldemort had been grateful.

The Dark Lord's followers had been hard to control. There were those who briefly entertained thoughts of overthrow, seeing the Dark Lord weakened thus. Most were still fearful, however, and claimed to want reparations. Proclaiming their love, many of them offered to go after Potter immediately.

"We'll bring you his head, My Lord," they cried lustily, determined to curry favor once Voldemort was fully recovered.

But Severus had thrashed the ensuing chaos into submission. Displaying magical power that he rarely allowed come to the fore, he cowed those who thought to overthrow Voldemort. Few save Albus knew the depths of Severus Snape's magical prowess. Snape allowed a portion of it to show with the would-be assassins that night, just as grief and fear had made him do so with Potter on the night Albus died. He had slapped the boy's hexes aside as though they were an annoyance of little consequence. The-Boy-Who-Lived was a potent wizard in his own right, but not yet so powerful as Snape or Albus before him.

Potter's skills were to have increased greatly the past school year when Severus began teaching DADA for the main purpose of covertly beginning the boy's training. But as Snape was quick to point out, in all the time he had known Potter, he had never managed to teach him anything.

However, Snape had to grudgingly admit, Potter instinctively knew a thing or two no one had to teach him. Much as Potter had with the Dark Lord that night, making him howl in pain, Snape began attacking his fellow Death Eaters through their minds. He assaulted them with feelings of uncertainty, paranoia, and fear. Severus sent into their minds images of their own torturous deaths at the hands of an angry, powerful Dark Lord. He insinuated himself into their bodies as well, causing hearts to beat impossibly loud, bowels to loosen, and throats to parch.

To those who would betray Voldemort and those who would avenge him alike, Snape had menacingly explained that the Dark Lord was under the temporary effects of a curse Potter had placed on Nagini. Snape warned everyone, with a dangerously forbidding countenance, that he would personally see to it that the effects were short-lived. He cautioned them all to remember that Potter was to be disposed of by the Dark Lord, lest they wish to incur their master's wrath when he had recovered.

Snape made a production of seeming concerned and protective of his master. Voldemort would not allow anyone else save Bella and the rodent close. They looked on with jealousy and anger as Snape offered several useless potions before the Dark Lord departed to his new refuge.

"These may help with the curse my Lord," Snape assured Voldemort with false earnestness.

"I do not believe Potter cursed Nagini, my Severusss," the Dark Lord hissed weakly. "I think he may have killed her."

"Yeah," Pettigrew put in stupidly. "We don't know if it was a curse at all Master," the rodent's voice sounded more petulant than anything, Snape noted with some amusement. The rat was trying hard to reinsert his nose up the Dark Lord's bum, but Severus got in ahead of him.

"I beg your forgiveness, my Lord," Severus cut in smoothly, while carefully occluding his memories of Nagini's death from his mind. "But I believe Potter holds her hostage for future leverage, even as he holds young Malfoy after abducting him before our very eyes." Snape had been steadfast and angry in espousing his theory that Potter had kidnapped Draco.

"Neither is Malfoy a hostage, Severussss," Voldemort insisted with a weakly impatient gesture. "I saw it in Potter's mind."

"You were in the brat's mind, my master?" Severus asked in false adoration. "How clever of you. What did you see?" Snape continued as though oblivious to the fact that Potter had severely bested the Dark Lord. "Is that when you threw your head back and howled in anger?" He asked this in a deviously innocent tone that would have done both Potter and Draco proud. His tone convinced the Dark Lord that he believed him to have howled in anger, instead of pain as was the actual case.

"It was quite clever my lord," Bella fawned in agreement, frustrated to garner some of the favor the Dark Lord seemed to be lavishing on Snape for herself.

"I do not agree with your assssesssssment, dear Severusss," Voldemort had hissed fondly, ignoring Bella. "But I am convinced of your loyalty."

"If I am wrong then these potions will do no good, Master, but they will certainly do no harm." Snape said pressing the vials into Bella's hand and giving Wormtail a pointed look. Both gave him ones of pure loathing in return. Bella and Pettigrew were to accompany Voldemort to his new hideout. Snape was to see to it his own sanctuary had not been breached as he had bidden the other Death Eaters to do.

"I await your summons, Master," Severus whispered in a falsely fervent voice while bestowing an adoring kiss on the Dark Lord's hand. "He is to have those potions at once Bella," Snape ordered. The last thing he saw as the three departed was the ugly witch's disdainful scowl.


	15. Potter Part II

**Disclaimer:** No. Not at all. J.K. owns 'em. Yes. I'm certain.

Thanks much to **excessivelyperky **for beta reading this. You're the best.

**A/N:** Reviews are a good thing.

**Enjoy**

**Chapter 15**

**Potter II**

It was Snape who suggested Bella and Wormtail kidnap a healer on route to the new encampment, thus further persuading the Dark Lord of his loyalty. It was true the potions he offered would do no harm, but no other potions would work until their effects had worn off.

It had bought them little time, but it was more than they had before. The Boy-Who-Lived had done well, Serverus had to admit. Of course the Potions Master would be hard pressed to tell him that. Snape wondered briefly, as he considered Potter's sleeping form, why the boy had chosen to do a wandless healing as opposed to using his wand on Draco. He examined the book that lay in the boy's lap.

The room was littered with many other books in addition to the one Potter held. Most of them were adorned with little tongues of colored paper, which stuck out from the sides and tops. One in particular caught Snape's eye. It lay open at the foot of the bed where Draco was resting, and was stained with red droplets of what could only be Potter's blood. Snape turned the book to read the cover, it was called, _Angelths: Magic, Myth and Mystery_. Snape actually owned a copy of the book. It had been gifted to him by Albus, prior to that fateful night on the Astronomy Tower. Snape had not yet had the courage to open the volume. The blood spattered page that Potter had been reading explained how one Angelth could hone in on its twin, thus allowing one Safekeeper to be immediately transported to the other, regardless of whether they were aware of the exact location.

To Potter's credit he had called and informed Albus about what he was going to attempt. Potter had explained that he was being possessed by Voldemort as he talked to Albus via the Angelth without looking into the locket. The boy explained that his scar was bleeding painfully, and he could see everything that was going on at the Death Eater meeting. He told the old man the that Voldemort was allowing the Death Eaters to punish Draco for losing Nagini. And by Voldemort forcing Potter to watch, the Dark Lord was apparently attempting to punish Harry as well.

Snape was both touched and appalled when the Headmaster informed him that the boy's primary concern seemed to have been that he didn't want Snape to be forced to curse Draco.

"How dare the impetuous little simpleton take such a risk for such a triviality," Snape had responded hotly when Albus told him. He briefly put aside just how relieved he had been when Potter showed up and kept him from having to do just that.

"Harry seemed convinced that Voldemort meant the other Death Eaters to kill young Draco," the Headmaster explained.

"I am certain the boy was correct in his assumption, Headmaster," Snape admitted.

"Harry was particularly distressed that you should be forced to participate in such action," Albus had explained via the Angelth, prior to Snape's apparation to Privet Drive.

The Headmaster had vehemently forbidden the boy to go. The old man argued that Potter's role in the defeat of Voldemort was far too important to risk. In the end, Harry had regretfully disobeyed. He insisted that he felt going to save Draco was part of defeating Voldemort. Snape mulled this thought over as he examined Potter's books.

He recognized his old potions text, the one Potter had denied being in possession of during the school year, open near a cauldron and burner in the center of a roll top desk. The boy had apparently brewed a pain killing draught and nerve repairer for Malfoy, Snape realized, and quirked an impressed eyebrow. The potions book too was also adorned with colored bits of paper that stuck out from its side and top. As Snape flipped through the book, he recognized Potter's untidy scrawl along with his own cramped script on the bits of parchment, which stuck to the pages.

The boy had jotted down questions and further clarifications regarding the potions. Snape grudgingly gave the boy credit, for it certainly appeared that he was diligently applying himself to his studies. Snape had been surprised to find this to be the case the night he had stumbled upon Potter training in Arabella Figg's back garden. The older wizard considered the conversation that had ensued between the two about the protection wards. This made it clear the boy had been doing a substantial amount of research.

Severus had argued with Albus, as they had sorted out plans during the school year, that Potter was lazy and would probably lie about all summer until it was time for his training to begin. He recounted the many times he had call to punish the boy for turning up after the summer holidays without having completed his assignments.

"I'm sure my death will force you both to mature somewhat," Albus had said with a mad twinkle in his eye. Severus hated it that Albus had begun joking about this topic. Snape had grown angry. He raised his voice, he hadn't done that in a while, and told Albus that he asked too much of him.

"I have no doubt you will do as you have promised," the Headmaster assured him mildly.

And the old man had been right, just as he had been right about Potter taking his studies seriously. That obviously seemed to be the case at present, the Potions Master thought, as he closed his old potions text with a little thud. He was about to turn back to the boys when he noticed a short stack of books gathering dust in a corner. He sped his approach slightly upon reading the titles:_ Protecting the Mind _by Graydian Crawlenton. _The Nature of Prophecy_ by Sheldon Cambridge, and _The Light in the Darkness _by Barthol Raynor. Snape hesitated just a moment before removing the aged, yellowing parchment from the top most volume.

_Headma_ster,

the note began in stern script:

_These books have been defiled by young Severus Snape of Slytherin. As this is not the first time this second year student has abused the books in this library, I feel it appropriate that his parents made to pay the replacement copies and the boy be severely punished._

_Sincerely,_

_Elvira Pince_

_Reference Library Witch_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

Severus remembered this incident clearly. He had been extremely embarrassed that the library witch had seen his personal notes. Young Snape had actually had no intention of returning the books once he had began to use them. He was constantly nicking books from the library; old Pince had never caught on. But occasionally a helpful house mate or house elf would return a book he had left out. To make a show of taking the witch's complaint seriously, and to reinforce the show of outward animosity that was being carefully crafted between himself and the young Slytherin, Albus had scolded the boy severely and humiliatingly in her presence. He assured her Severus would be punished and given an evening of detention. Of course this was as fraudulent as all the other detentions Albus gave Severus, which the Headmaster always insisted he serve with him personally.

"I have to take this young man, who is just a bit too fond of the dark arts, in hand personally," the Headmaster would claim when questioned by others.

The detentions were usually served during evenings and on weekends, and for his last three years of school Severus managed to earn detention over the Christmas holidays. These lengthier punishment sessions were a cover for study such as Occlumency, wandless magic and those Dark Arts, Albus claimed the boy was fond of. In fact, the Dark Arts initially frightened young Severus greatly.

"How do you know I won't become truly dark, Headmaster?" the boy, who was small and skinny for his age, would ask.

"Because I will not allow it, dear boy," was the standard answer. "You must understand darkness to fight for light," the Headmaster would assure the twelve year old. "And your prophecy states you are to be the most accomplished spy the Light has ever known."

"What if I fail, Albus?" Every once in a while young Severus would have to voice this doubt.

"You will not fail because you are my Prince," Albus would reassure him, while affectionately tousling his raven hair. "My Half Blood Prince." Severus always smiled at the affectionate address, just as he warmly referred to the Headmaster as Albus.

The bond between the two had already grown strong. This did not always make-up for the Headmaster routinely siding with any chance Gryffindor against Severus, no matter the evidence. Nor did it make the humiliation of public scoldings, which were sure to follow, easier to tolerate. A few times in the early years the Headmaster had actually reduced the child to tears, thus earning Snape the name Snivellus among the Gryffindors.

As time passed, Severus developed a thicker skin, and a well defined sneer. He also came to trust that if Albus was truly displeased with him he would never berate him in the presence of others. He also quickly learned that his sneer made things much worse in such situations. It was a perfect cover for Severus' future duties. Those who believed him a true follower of Voldemort, such as Lucius' father, Abraxas Malfoy, who had sponsored Severus and Lucius in their apprenticeships to the Dark Lord, had little doubt of Snape's loyalty. The young man seemed to have ample incentive, given Dumbledore's abuse of the Slytherin throughout his time at Hogwarts. And those who believed Snape worked for the Light thought the Headmaster's punishments and scoldings had set the young man straight.

The scolding the Headmaster had given Severus in front of Pince had been mild in comparison to some. But when twelve year old Severus had returned to his dorm from detention that evening, which had been a non-verbal magic lesson, on Severus' night table lay brand new copies of the very same books Pince had confiscated. The Headmaster had charmed them to replicate Severus' notations.

In the here and now Snape's stomach tightened at the thought of Potter reading his notes in these particular books. The volume on Occlumency had practically been a diary. Severus noted that two of the three books were free of sticky parchments. The Occlumency book had a single pink tab poking threateningly out of its side. Severus took a moment to sneer angrily at Potter's sleeping form before reading the note.

_Too personal. Ask permission?_ The note inquired. _Scourgify?_

Tucked beneath the note was a letter Potter had apparently began several times.

_Dear Professor Snape,_

_I found some of your old books..._

_Professor Snape,_

_I accidentally..._

This first and second attempt had been lined through.

_Professor,_

_On my last night at Hogwarts I went into the restricted section of the library and..._

The third attempt had been scratched out more thoroughly, and Snape could see where the boy had written _I, we_, and then _I_ again with regards to who went into the restricted section. From the amount of dust on the volumes and the lack of notations the boy had apparently given up. Snape closed the book with a ghost of a smirk playing about his mouth and turned back to where the boys lay sleeping

Draco seemed to be resting comfortably, but Potter's color was extremely pale. Just as Snape decided that he might begin brewing the magic replenisher, which he had thought ahead to bring the ingredients for, Potter awoke. When their eyes met the boy's expression went through a process Snape had come to know very well. First there was the dawning realization of having been caught out. Then there was the fear of punishment. Next came the arrogance that indicated any punishment would be of little consequence. Finally came the cunning that would have served the boy well in Slytherin as he tried to formulate a plausible excuse.

Snape decided to speak first before the little dunderhead injured himself.

"Your behavior tonight," Snape began in his patented silkily menacing tone, "was extremely irresponsible, exceedingly idiotic, and recklessly dangerous. Attempt a stunt like that in future and you have my word I shall see to it you are permanently maimed," Snape promised matter-of-factly. "Now kindly begin to pack your things."

Potter opened and closed his mouth a few times before he was able to regain the power of speech.

"Are we going somewhere then, sir?" the boy finally managed.

"That is why you were ordered to pack your things, Potter," the man said impatiently. "Some time this week, boy," Snape said sharply when the young man failed to move.

"Ron and Hermione?" the boy asked as he gained his feet a tad unsteadily, Snape noticed.

"They won't be joining us I'm afraid," Snape managed his customary sneer.

The boy frowned. "No, I meant," Harry began as he moved to obey. "They're staying here now. What shall I tell them?"

"What have you told them thus far?" Snape asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"Nothing," Harry said quickly. "Well nothing about the Angelths or you or anything," the boy explained. "Professor Dumbledore told me not to."

"Since you have paid little heed to the other things we have forbidden this summer," Snape returned snidely. "The truth of the matter may prove hard to verify."

"I was only trying to..." Harry began defensively.

Snape held up a hand to forestall the boy's comment. "I have no interest in what you thought you were trying to accomplish, Potter." In reality the man was interested. But he could not hear it just now. He was afraid it would make him...what? Respect the boy? Care for him? Severus shook his head free from such thoughts. He was undeniably grateful that Potter had saved Draco. But this was Harry, wonderful, Potter. Albus' precious pet. Snape had always made such an issue of disliking the boy because of his father, but in reality it was Albus' love for the youngster that caused the greater hurt. That coupled with Albus' outward show of favoritism for the boy's father and the other Marauders when they were in school was enough to make any relationship between Severus and Harry doomed before it started.

"Do your friends know of Draco and the events of last night?" Snape questioned as Potter began to pack his trunk

"No." Harry told him. "We apparated here and I warded the room. They don't know about you or the Angelths either, honest," the boy assured him.

"Continue packing," the man instructed in a flat tone, eyeing the cauldron and the boy's unsteady gate and wondering if the magic replenisher could wait. He also wondered if Weasley and Granger were safe from the countless eager young Death Eaters who might get it into their heads to attempt to breach the wards at Potter's home in search of the boy. Albus' wards would certainly hold, Severus reasoned as he contemplated ordering Potter to sit down.

He made up his mind when he had to catch the boy's arm to keep him from tumbling head first into his trunk. Severus steered the boy to a wooden chair nearest the makeshift potions stand on the desk. He sat the boy down more roughly than there was need. Snape removed a bundle of reddish green leaves from inside his robes and put the cutting board and silver knife in front of Potter.

"Chop these into quarter inch sections," Snape ordered. "Refrain from cutting your fingers as the potion does not require that ingredient."

Potter surprised the Potions Master by giving the leaves a good sniff.

"Yeah," the boy mumbled as though to himself. "Magic replenisher. Good idea."

The two worked together in silence, until Potter shocked Snape even further by reaching into the desk drawer and pulling out a small jar of aphodyll powder.

"Well, well, well, Potter," Snape intoned, with a severely arched eyebrow.

The confidence with which the boy had reached for the ingredient faltered slightly.

"Well erm..." the boy began inarticulately. "The aphodyll will...that is to say I think it'll..." Potter said nervously.

Snape took pity on him.

"Yes, yes," Snape agreed in a tone that sounded a trifle irritated. "It will indeed speed up the brewing time. Add it now." He ordered as he adjusted the flame.

Snape noticed that the boy's hand shook as he added the bluish powder. Whether it was from his magical fatigue or because Snape had made him nervous was unclear.

The Potions Master found he was impressed against his will. This trick was not something Potter had picked up from his potions text. The fact that you could speed up the brewing time of red and green leaf potions by adding blue aphodyll was something Severus had not discovered until he was in his twenties. Snape wanted to ask if it was Granger who had worked out the process, but Potter saved him the trouble.

"Just something I figured out when I was fooling about with some other potions," the boy mumbled apologetically, as though expecting to be berated for having the audacity to make such a discovery. He may well have been right too, as it had put Snape in a bit of a mood.

After downing one and a quarter vials of the foul tasting potion. Harry moved to continue packing.

"Sit," Snape ordered firmly

He caught a mumble as the boy countered with an impertinent, "Roll over," a fleeting scowl of irritation crossed Potter's face. Snape treated him to a sharp glare, but said nothing. Severus was rather adept at packing charms and made short work of putting together the contents of the boy's room and wardrobe.

"Is that all of your things?" Snape asked Potter, who nodded from his place on the chair. The older wizard shrunk the trunk and tossed it to the boy, who caught it deftly and placed it in his pocket.

Leaning over the bed Snape lifted Draco and cradled him easily to his chest, as though he were a much younger and lighter burden. Severus instructed Potter to stand near and grasp his arm. He wound up having to hiss angrily at the boy before he would take hold of the man's arm properly and the three were able to diapparate from Number Four Privet Drive.

**Authors Note: The ending of the chapter has been edited slightly from the original.**

**Hope you enjoyed it. Please don't forget to review.**


	16. Dragon and the Dark Mark

**Disclaimer**: I don't own 'em. But if I did, this is what I would tell them to do.

**Authors Notes**: Work has been stressful, blah, blah, blah... and it seems like forever since my last update. I had a few issues with the plot, but I've worked then out for now. Maybe. I'm still not completely sure where we are going, but I'm glad you folks are along for the ride. Thanks much for reviewing my story and for letting me know what you all think.

Thanks so much to my awesomely talented, amazingly busy beta, **excessivelyperky**.

The line at the end of this chapter about taking a spy to task for how they gather their info, was shamelessly lifted from her fic, **_The Birthday Present_**. I hope you all are following that fic as well.

Of course the scene at the end with Draco crying, "I can't do it," is from HBP.

**Enjoy **

**Chapter 16**

**The Dark Mark and the Dragon**

Harry wasn't sure where he had expected to turn up when he and Snape apparated with Draco, but was rather surprised to find himself in the Dursley's garden. It made sense, now he'd thought about it, not risking the noise of getting all of them out of the bedroom, down the steps and out of the house without waking anyone.

Also it was fortunate that they _had_ apparated such a short distance, or Snape may have been significantly weakened transporting the three of them. As it was the man seemed to be making an effort to catch his breath and square his shoulders. He repositioned Draco in his arms, and eyed both young wizards for signs of splinching. Snape had landed them in the shadows of a huge tree in hopes concealing them from any Order members who happened to be in the area.

Harry looked at Snape with curiosity about their final destination. Just as he was deciding whether to reign in his inquisitiveness, he became aware of a green flash that lit the sky just to the front of the house. Snape noticed it at just the same instant. As the two looked overhead they were greeted by the image of an enormous green skull invading the night sky. A serpent's head protruded menacingly from its mouth.

With a swift gentle movement Snape set Draco down in the flower bed and cast a quick _dissimulation_ charm that would make the boy blend with his surroundings.

"Come," he ordered Harry, casting the charm on himself and the boy as well urging him to follow.

They heard countless telltale pops of wizard apparation before they reached the front hedge. Snape had to grab Harry by both arms to keep the boy from rushing head long into the fray. He pulled him into a crouch near a hedge, the two blending seamlessly with its bushy greenness, and the surrounding terra cotta flower basins.

The wide street was filled with Dark wizards, their muggle counterparts shutting windows and putting out lights with panicky movements. Frantically they were securing their homes from the hell that had suddenly broken lose on their quiet street. Harry craned his neck to see the Dursley's doing the same thing. Uncle Vernon's eyes looked more angry than frightened as he quickly shut the living room drapes. And Aunt Petunia looked pale and slightly ill as she stared out at the street from Dudley's bedroom window.

"Should we grab some muggles from one of the houses?" one young Death Eater, Palini, asked a companion, who nodded in joyous agreement. "That is bound to make Potter come out and play."

Upon hearing this Harry struggled more desperately to free himself from Snape's unyielding grip. There were about thirty Death Eaters all told. And Snape noted they were comprised of veteran members along with newly marked apprentices.

The fact that taking muggles from there homes would not be allowed without a fight was made clear when the opposition came tearing up the street, wands drawn, from the general direction of the Figg residence. They were Order members, Aurors and a large number of Weasleys. Harry had a strong sense of deja vu from the decoy wedding earlier that day.

The real wedding had ended many hours ago. However, many of the Weasley clan had stayed behind for an extended family gathering with the bride and groom in the comfort and security of Mrs. Figg's gracious hospitality. Ron and Hermione had gotten away early and joined Harry at his relatives home. They had helped him to charm a receptacle for Nagini's memories, until he begged off and went to bed saying his scar hurt.

Bill and Fleur led the charge up Privet Drive, both had changed from dress wedding robes to every day wear. Fleur's petite legs matched those of her much taller husband stride for stride, her expression no less fierce than his scowling werewolf mutilated visage.

The newlyweds threw curses before they even reached the Death Eaters, and two D.E. were hit with blasting curses before the werewolf and the veela ever saw the white of their masks. Feet slapped the ground hard in the newlyweds wake. McGonagall, Tonks, Lupin and the Weasley twins made up the front line flanking the couple on either side. With two more pops Ron and Hermione were there as well, and the remaining forces caught up to the front line.

Curses were flying swift and savage as Harry still struggled to free himself from Snape's powerful grip. The older wizard cast a _silenco_ to keep the boy's swearing from being heard, and their position near the hedge and terra cotta planters covert. The Headmistress and Tonks were perhaps ten feet away and Harry was frantic to assist.

As Harry watched in horror, Palini made his way to the side and cast a _transfixion_ curse that surely would have done the Headmistress harm had Draco Malfoy not chosen that moment to appear. The _dissimulation_ charm canceled as he drew his wand.

"_Protego_," the blond boy shouted as he smoothly hurdled the hedge near Snape and Harry. His shield held true, causing Palini's _transfixtion_ hex to dissipate in a flash of razor sharp sparks just inches away from McGonagall.

"Professor," the boy quipped with a nod, causing the Headmistress to severely arch an eyebrow, as the boy fell in to fight beside her

It was most likely shock at Draco's action that caused Snape to marginally loosen his grip on a Harry's quickly numbing arms. Upon breaking free several long strides found the boy facing off with the enormous blond Death Eater who had been there the night Dumbledore was killed.

The man to his right called him Groggier, and gave warning of Harry's incoming _bludgeoning_ hex. Harry was able to cast a second before Snape appeared along side Groggier, and a silvery mace and chain came to bear on the big blonde's shoulder. Snape threw up a _sovereignty_ block, the rounded edges of which where unfortunately not flared enough to protect Groggier. Harry wasted no time with a strong chain binding curse.

The Death Eater who had warned Groggier cast a _rupturing_ hex, and its black knife-like tentacles sliced a menacing path towards Harry. Seemingly hapless, Snape moved forward slightly and the curse ricocheted uselessly off the front edge of his block. He canceled it immediately, but the hex had already faded. Snape turned toward Harry with a low growl, and furiously positioned himself between four Death Eaters before catching Harry's eye and silently ordering, _blasting curse_, into the boy's shocked consciousness. Momentarily caught of guard, Harry recovered quickly and cast a wandless _detonation_ hex instead, which applied more force but less nerve damage.

As Snape flew through the air with the force of the hex, his arms and legs splayed wide enough to take out the four Death Eaters at his sides. As he continued to fly backwards he took out the six behind him as well. They landed in an untidy heap. Harry along with Hermione and Ron began to cast chain bindings. Ron was determined to chain Snape. And as Harry was surreptitiously canceling the bind for the second time the group almost didn't hear Palini's wicked cry.

"_Avada Kedavra_," the young Slytherin shouted, sending Bill Weasley plummeting to the ground in a bright flash of awful green light. High pitched shrieks of _No and Bill_ could be heard then. Harry saw Mr. and Mrs. Weasley side by side wielding wands their eyes fierce with anguish, as the twins began to fire hexes in a reckless, random fashion.

Snape almost gave himself away as he sped toward Bill Weasley with a look of ferocious concern that settled for a moment and was gone. Fleur, determined to make them all pay, cast an ominous _Avada Kedavra_ of her own in Snape's direction as he approached. Before the curse could land Harry used a wandless summoning to throw one of Aunt Petunia's huge terra cotta flower basins at Snape's upper body and head. The curse pulverized the planter, leaving a fine spray of dirt, terra cotta dust and dissipating green light. Before another curse could be hurled Harry shouted.

"You effing Bastard," and fairly tackled Snape. "Throw me off and disapparate," Harry whispered frantically as they rolled around on the ground. "I'll catch up with you later."

Snape took the suggestion one step further. He apparated to the Dursley's back garden and shifted to his animagi form, a sleek, black Burmese cat. He made his way quickly to the front, and a high branch of the shade tree so he could view the battle from above. His disappearance was met with angry dismay and a re-energizing of the battle. Snape made short work of bringing the battle to a close as he used various mind techniques to create panic and confusion. The Death Eaters began to crash into each other and run. The suddenly clumsy Death Eaters were quickly bound by Aurors and Order Members, and gathered up for transport to Azkaban.

The Weasley family and friends who surrounded Bill's body all seemed to be making a low deep throated moaning sound that had somehow become an impromptu sort of chant that they swayed to lightly. Snape noticed Potter moving to its cadence as well as tears streamed down the boy's face. The Weasley's circled little Fleur, whose muffled cries could be heard above it all, as she buried her face in the folds of Bill's tear soaked robes. Every once in a while her tiny fist would pound on his broad chest with and anguished, _Oh no_.

Malfoy seemed moved by the scene as well, as he stood to the side with McGonagall.

"Well, Mr. Malfoy?" McGonagall intoned at one point.

"I was wondering if I might speak with you Professor," he began carefully. "It has been a rather difficult year."

"Rather," she agreed lightly, but just then said no more. From his position in the tree Snape was suddenly overwhelmed by a sense of pride.

Hours later, after the Aurors had quarantined the block and altered the Muggle's memories, Snape was waiting for Potter in the boy's room, and tried to piece together his feelings about the night. He was certainly proud of Draco; there was no denying that. And he believed there was yet time for the boy to find the path back. Draco had in fact committed far fewer transgressions than Severus himself had during the four month period when the Headmaster had sent him away, after Severus had angrily threatened to join the Dark Lord in earnest.

Albus had been quick to point out in the months after Severus returned that he had never truly been a servant of Voldemort.

"You were simply fulfilling your duties for a time without the comfort of my support, child," the Headmaster would insist..

The irony was not lost on Severus that his chief complaint had been the Headmaster offered him no comfort or support. It was true however, that Severus never stopped passing on information. Though there were four bleak months when the Albus refused to speak with him personally.

"It was a rather stern and hazardous lesson, Headmaster," Severus had observed. Although, he was yet too apprehensive to out and out complain.

"So it was," the Headmaster agreed. "So it was."

Severus still marveled that Albus could forgive the awful things he had done and continued to do, when Severus could never forgive himself. The Headmaster insisted that it would be cruel indeed to request Severus gather intelligence for the Light and then take him to task for how he obtained it. Severus later realized that Albus pushing him away in those early days was the only thing that gave him the strength to begin the work that he had been destined to do for so long. He could not have begun this despicable task under the gentle knowing gaze of his mentor.

Potter's task was going to be less burdened in some ways. Severus had insisted long before the boy had come to Hogwarts that the Headmaster was wrong about needing to understand the Darkness to fight for the Light. Albus had countered that there were many degrees of Darkness, and since Harry's greatest gift would be love he would have to experience hate. Severus admitted that he had schooled the boy too thoroughly, and certainly too willingly in this subject. As had the boy's relatives, though Albus probably wasn't aware to what degree.

Snape was lost in these musings when the boy finally returned to his room and he and Potter exchanged a significant look. Just before Potter turned away, Snape saw in his mind an image of Draco weeping while looking at his reflection in a mirror and sobbing the words _"I can't do it_._" _A feminine voice was urging him not to cry and suddenly Potter's image joined Draco in the mirror, looking on in shocked concern. The memory began to fade as Potter broke eye contact with Snape, but not before Severus saw Draco turning in anger in the memory. The toilet floor suddenly filled with blood after a partially uttered _Crucio_ and a high pitched _Sectumsempra_. The last thing Snape saw before Potter turned away was an image of himself harshly ordering the shaken boy to wait while he rushed Draco to the hospital wing.

Snape wondered briefly if it was this memory that had allowed Potter to attack the Dark Lord's mind as he had.

"Come," Snape said finally and this time the boy took his arm without complaint.

Harry was again confused by the distance they had apparated. This time they had gone down the block to Mrs. Figg's garden and they stood in front of her shed.

"In," Snape ordered, propelling the boy forward with a gentle shove. "Dobby!" the man called a trifle anxiously as they reached the far wall of the small garden shed.

"Yes Master Severus," the tiny elf squeaked as he popped into existence among the muggle gardening implements.

"Please take us through," Snape requested the elf, collecting ever more confused looks from Potter by the moment.

_**Hope you enjoyed it. Please don't forget to review.**_

**This chapter has been altered slightly. I added that Severus is an animagus, and a brief conversation between Snape and Albus.**


	17. The Summer House

**Disclaimer:** Nope. J.K. owns em.

**Authors Notes: **Thanks for all your reviews. You don't know how much I look forward to reading your opinions. I appreciate those of you who found Bill's death tragic. I wasn't sure anyone would care. Since he is a pretty underused character, and I was not planning on using him, I thought it might prove interesting to kill him on his wedding day.

**Ann F**: Yes, Draco is with McGonagall.

Snape's recollection of his parents in this chapter was inspired by **3-legged dog's**, _**Victims of Prophesy**_. It is a great little fic that is extremely well written and creative. It gets better with every chapter. You should all go read and review it now. _Go on_. I'll be here when you get back. I can't copy the link here, but you can find the story here by using the author's name or the title. It is also archived in my C2, **Snarry Alberus**.

Thanks to the extremely talented **excessivelyperky**. I appreciate your hard work so much, especially the input regarding POV shifts. You're the best!

**Enjoy **

**Chapter 17**

**The Summer House**

Dobby snapped his long bony fingers, and in a flash of golden light, the drab walls of the garden shed disappeared. While Harry was again puzzled by where they wound up, he had to admit that Dobby _had_ taken them to the most obvious place.

"Hogwarts kitchens..." the boy said aloud, as he and Snape were descended upon by several dozen enthusiastic house elves.

The reaction of the elves was worthy of note. While Harry was used to them making a fuss over him, it was a bit odd to see them treating Snape the same manner.

"Is Masters hungry?" squeaked one little elf, called Pepper, when they came in. She tugged on the sleeves of both wizards.

"No thank you, Pepper," Snape replied, surprising Harry with both his gentle tone and the fact that he knew the elf's name.

"Oh but Masters is too thin; they is not eating enough," another elf, Tilly, complained indicating both Harry and Severus with sad round eyes. To Harry's amazement Snape gave the elf an indulgent look, and Harry was almost certain the man smiled briefly. This was startling behavior for Snape. Harry had only seen the man smile when he was threatening someone with Veritaserum or taking house points.

"No, really Tilly," the man tried to beg off. "We must be on our way I think..." Snape paused. And to Harry's discomfort, the older wizard seemed to consider him briefly. For a moment Harry thought he was going to inquire if he was hungry, but then Snape turned back to the elves.

"Perhaps we should, eat," he decided abruptly, taking a seat at the same table where Harry had sat a few times with his friends when they had come to the kitchens to visit the elves and nick food.

Harry wondered vaguely if Snape used to come and nick food from the kitchen when he was a student, or perhaps he still did. The elves seemed ridiculously pleased to see them both, no one more so than Dobby who rushed about with his friends setting out more platters of delicious, steaming food than the two wizards could possibly consume. The tiny elf fairly bounced as he stood at the edge of the table looking from Snape to Harry in fawning enthusiasm.

"Does Masters need anything else?" the tiny elf squeaked, while adjusting two of his hats and looking from one to the other.

"No thank you, Dobby," Snape replied, the amusement clear in his voice. The older wizard tried to cover it with a bit of a cough and by furrowing his brow as he examined an enormous sliced leg of lamb.

"Eat up, Potter," the man ordered sternly, when he noticed the boy staring at him. "There will not be any food where we are going," Snape warned, giving Harry a look that dared him to question further.

Harry kept his legendary inquisitiveness in check for once. He heaped a big pile of mashed potatoes and roasted meat on his plate, and began to shovel it in as though preparing for a long winter. The two ate in silence amid the contented looks of adoration of the house elves. Harry was used to garnering these looks for himself, he thought as he worked on his second helping, but it was mystifying to find such rapt expressions being directed at Snape. When Dobby rushed to fill the older wizard's glass before Snape could do it himself, Harry's curiosity got the better of him.

"What is up with you and Dobby?" the boy questioned around a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

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Snape pondered admonishing the boy about the rudeness of speaking with his mouthful, then reconsidered.

"The Headmaster thought Dobby might prove useful in passing on information between myself and the Order once my word was no longer trusted." A look of regret darken the older wizard's features, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

"Dobby agreed to give up his freedom temporarily and be bound to me for the duration of the War."

Snape went on to explain that was how Dobby was able to bring them into Hogwarts. While wizards could not apparate within the castle, house elves got around quite efficiently.

"A Hogwarts house elf who is bound to a particular wizard can bring them inside through an established Hogwarts gateway, and then anywhere within the castle," Snape explained. "Usually Hogwarts elves are only bound to the Headmistress or master as the case may be," the Potions Master further clarified.

The garden shed on the Figg property was such a gateway. Dumbledore had established it shortly after leaving Harry to live with his relatives. Mrs. Figg had been put in residence at the same time and was to act as a liaison between young Harry Potter and the wizarding world.

The boy seemed to contemplate this information in silence .

"So are we staying here in the castle then?" he asked after a few moments, munching an overlarge hunk of lamb as he spoke the question. This time Snape nearly did correct the boy. It was obvious those muggles hadn't taught him any manners, he noted as Harry leaned his elbows on the table and waited for an answer. It was also obvious the boy had been hungry.

"We are not," Snape intoned lifting the napkin from his lap and wiping his mouth rather delicately. "Are you finished?" he inquired as he stood and indicated Harry's nearly empty plate.

"Sure," the boy replied a tad uncertainly, as he grabbed the napkin from the table to wipe his own mouth before standing to follow. The elves followed as well to bid them goodbye.

"If you is needing anything at all, Master," Dobby chirped happily, "lets Dobby know."

"Of course, Dobby," Snape agreed mildly, as he approached a painting on the wall.

It was of a serene beach front landscape. Pale, blue water met a gentle, white froth that licked tentatively at the sandy shore. The shore stretched to meet the rich greenery, which quickly took dominance, save for the tiny buildings randomly dotting the dense brush. To the side sat the rocky face of a cliff. The cliff opened into a u-shaped cove, where a peach colored house with a gray shingled roof stood slightly above on a brick foundation. The cheery house had many windows, and the door was adorned with a brightly shining brass knocker. Harry looked on in quiet fascination as Snape touched the knocker with one long index finger and gently scratched the surface.

The painting opened then and they were suddenly met with a cool ocean breeze. Snape entered the doorway indicating with a nod that Harry should follow. The two found themselves standing in front of a bus, the kind that Harry had seen muggles take on tours of the countryside. The bus paused briefly, then swished past. Snape beckoned Harry to follow him across the road into the tiny beach town that was not yet awake in the wee hours of the first morning light.

The town was filled with small brightly colored shops that covered both sides of the narrow street. Signs advertised claddagh jewelry, fine woolen clothing and several small restaurants and a pub had signs boasting, _Guinness, it's good for you_.

"Where are we?" Harry wondered aloud when they were about half way down the street.

"Glenbeigh, Ireland," Snape announced. "Albus' summer home is here."

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Harry thought the older wizard's voice sounded a bit strange when he said the last, but could not be sure. The shops gradually gave way to the sand of a beach. Snape led the way in front of a shallow cliff face as though he had traveled this path many times before. Harry had a strange feeling of recognition as well. Snape turned left on the sandy path down a passage between two cliffs. When they were three quarters of the way through Harry looked up and noticed a rock shelf that seemed to lead into the cliff. The boy gasped and suddenly stopped short.

"This is where Dumbledore and I came to search for the fake Horcrux," Harry realized, as his breath came out shallow and hoarse sounding.

Snape stopped then too. "Indeed it is," he intoned. And when he turned to Harry he was wearing an extremely dark smile. The smile while similar to other nasty smiles Harry had seen the Potions Master don, seemed slightly more calculating, Harry thought, as he stared oddly at the other man.

Something about the smile, being in the same place as they had found the fake Horcrux, and remembering this was the man he saw kill Dumbledore, gave Harry a sudden sense of irrational consuming dread.

Years later, Harry would be embarrassed when reminded of how completely he had panicked, when he turned on his heel an began running flat out back the way they had come. If he had spared a glance he would have seen Snape's expression turn to one of confused concern before he took off after the boy.

"Potter!" the older wizard bellowed giving chase. "Potter! What in the seven hells are you playing at, you little dunderhead?" Drawing his wand, he placed the boy in a very tight bodybind and seemed to take perverse satisfaction in watching him stumble to the ground.

"Scared Potter?" Snape taunted mildly when he caught up to where the boy had fallen.

Harry was terrified. His green eyes were wide and his breathing labored. Somehow seeing the cave entrance made him believe himself to have been fooled again. Snape was not on their side! Had he charmed the Angelths? The boy was suddenly sure this had all been an elaborate hoax to lure him here and kill him!

Harry growled something incoherent and venomously spat on the older wizard's shoe.

Snape glared at the spittle resting nastily on the tip of his boot, then turned his angry glare back to Potter. He twirled his wand once before pocketing it.

"Do not. Do that. Again." the older wizard advised in a stony tone that fairly chilled Harry's blood. Snape held his gaze for long moment and Harry finally looked away, clearly angry with himself for weakening.

"Perhaps you should have used your wand," Snape admonished impatiently, stooping down and actually lifting Harry's chin up to meet his gaze again.

"My wand?" Harry returned a tad uncertainly, while flinching from the unusualness of the touch.

"Yes, your wand, boy," the older wizard sneered. "Certainly you have not lost it between now and the battle on Privet Drive?" the older wizard stated incredulously.

"No," Harry admitted guardedly. Thinking about the battle made Harry remember that Snape had definitely behaved as though he was on the side of the Order. Snape had actually taken out ten of the Death Eaters when he crashed into them. He had looked genuinely concerned when Bill was hit. Harry abruptly began to feel foolish about his sudden hysteria.

"Any first year Gryffindor simpleton," Snape scolded in a stern tone, "would realize that it would be completely asinine to run from a dark wizard whom you suddenly believed was about to kill you." Harry looked painfully chastened. "You panicked in a very basic way. If I had been laying a trap, you would be dead," Snape fixed Harry with a hard glare. "We can not afford such stupidity at this juncture. Is that clear?"

It took Harry a moment to realize the older wizard was waiting for a response. His cheeks reddened painfully as he answered.

"Yes," he agreed, his embarrassment making his tone sound extremely insolent.

"Yes _sir_," the older wizard reminded him warningly.

Harry looked up at Snape, with an expression that pleaded his ego couldn't take much more.

"Why do you _insist_ I call you that?" Harry asked finally.

"Why do you _insist_ on refusing to do so?" Snape returned.

"I don't always," Harry countered.

"Nor do I," Snape sneered. "I only insist when you are being impertinent, which is nearly all the time. You generally make the word _sir_ sound as though it were profane at any rate."

"You mean the way you say, _Potter_," Harry observed, "like it was something nasty you stepped in?"

The older wizard rested his back against the rock wall.

"I have all day Potter. And my arse isn't resting in the damp sand."

For a moment it seemed as though Harry would not respond.

"Yes _sir_," Harry said eventually, damaging his pride more than the simple address should have done.

"Good," Snape stated, mildly canceling the bodybind and _scourgifying_ the spit from his shoe, while shooting Harry a disgusted glance. "Now, as I said before, Albus' summer home is here. Just up ahead and to the right," Snape explained "I used to come here for a few weeks each summer when I was in school and the Headmaster was training me."

"Training you to kill him, sir?" Harry asked angrily before he could stop himself. For a moment he thought Snape would replace the bodybind or worse. But after one dark look the man continued.

"That cave above," Snape indicated the opening where the fake Horcrux was discovered, "was a bit of a secret hideout when I used to play here."

Harry looked thoughtful, doubting Snape had every _played_, but said nothing.

"As you well know searching for that fake Horcrux was a test. A test that Albus gave me hell for making so difficult for his precious Potter," Snape finished derisively.

"You made it so one of us had to drink poison to get out for the love of Merlin!" Harry returned hotly.

"Why didn't you drink it, Potter?" Snape asked with a sneer.

"Dumbledore ordered me to give it to him," Harry explained as though Snape were dense.

"But you thought it was poison?" Snape taunted.

"He made me promise," Harry said defensively.

"Hm," Snape intoned. "Amazing how hard it was to break a promise to Albus even when you knew you might cause him harm." With that Snape turned away and headed in the direction they had started out.

After a moment, Harry followed, trying hard to swallow the bitter anger that had lodged in his throat. He pondered the rock shelf above. Harry remembered Dumbledore chuckling in an almost affectionate way about crass humor of the cave opening requiring blood. He also now distinctly remembered Dumbledore's answer as to how he was able to unravel the puzzles and traps in the cave.

"I taught him," the Headmaster had told Harry. "I know how he thinks." Of course Harry had thought he was speaking of Riddle at the time.

When Harry made his way to the end of the sandy passage way, he saw a beautiful beach house that was a mirror image of the house in the painting in the Hogwarts kitchen. Snape had already made his way up the red brick stairway with white railings and lattice work.

Instead of scratching the brass knocker, Snape used a series of unlocking spells, none of which was an _alohomora_. Harry made it to the top of the stairs, just as the man was canceling the last of the wards. As Harry followed the older wizard inside of the house, he was stuck by the simple beauty of the house that reminded him distinctly of Albus Dumbledore. The front room was done in rich dark woods and tasteful pastel florals. On the mantle were several seemingly muggle photographs of the same dark haired boy at various ages playing and relaxing on the beach. Harry stared, transfixed at one. The tall, dark haired boy wore blue jeans an a forest green jumper. He smiled happily, his black eyes impossibly bright.

"_Animate_," Snape incanted from over Harry's shoulder. The picture became a wizard photo. The smile in the photo widened and then turned sheepish. The boy's smooth black hair blew in the wind as he slightly hunched his shoulders against the ocean breeze.

"That was taken when I was about a year younger than you are now," Snape supplied.

Yet another smiling image of Snape. This was getting to be a bit too much. Harry tried to reconcile the photo with the image of the miserable young man he had seen in the pensieve last year. This picture had to have been taken later the same year, as the scene in the pensieve took place during O.W.L.S.

"It doesn't look much like you, sir," Harry ventured.

"I agree," Snape said ruefully. "Those were happy summers,"

"You got to stay here every summer with Dumbledore?" Harry asked with an emotion he couldn't quite place.

"Just for a few weeks at the end of each," Snape explained. "I came here some weekends as well."

Snape's casual attitude helped Harry place the emotion. It was jealousy. The greasy git actually got to spend time with the Headmaster when he was a kid. Lots of time if the pictures were any indication, and here he was talking about it like it was no big deal.

"Your parents didn't care?" Harry asked, trying to subdue the uncomfortable feeling that rose up inside him. He never thought he would have call to feel jealous of Snape.

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Snape arched an eyebrow at the boy's query, but made no other response as he gave Potter a tour of the house. When Severus thought of his physically and emotionally abusive muggle sire and bitter and vindictive magical dame it could still inspire rage in the man. Tobias Snape knew Eileen Prince was a witch when he married her. However, he was under the mistaken impression of many muggles that he could simply forbid magic in his home and that would be the end of it. When that didn't work the man did his level best to beat it out of his wife and son.

Tobias went to exhaustive, brutal measures to remind his family who was boss. And was always aware of the need to remind them again before they thought to retaliate. Having broken all ties with her pureblooded family by marrying a muggle, and feeling unable to protect her son, Eileen did the next best thing. She began to loathe the boy because he was a miniature replica of his father, and abuse him as well. The woman developed a startling repertoire of discipline hexes. Severus' parents had been only too happy to let him spend part of each summer with the Headmaster, and the boy was only too happy to go.

"Come," said Snape, breaking free of his bitter recollections. "I have been awake for almost all of the last twenty-four hours and I believe you have as well. I will show you to your room."

"Why did you say there wouldn't be any food where we were going?" Harry asked as he followed Snape down a long wide hallway.

"No one has been here since last summer, Potter. There isn't any. You can not possibly be hungry again?" the man asked, thinking of the way the boy had stuffed himself and of his deplorable table manners.

"No, sir," Harry explained. "Just trying to piece things together."

"Let me know when you do," Snape replied snidely. " Toilet," he said, pointing to a door on the left, "your room," the man explained opened the door to a room with a huge four poster and a sliding glass picture window that led out onto a balcony overlooking the beach. There was a wardrobe in one corner and a desk in the other. A little sofa and two chairs sat in front of the fireplace.

"Wow..." Harry intoned.

"Sleep, Potter," Snape ordered. "I'll wake you up in few hours and we will begin to make plans." The older wizard turned to go.

"What sort of things are we going to be doing here, sir?"

Snape turned back and considered his answer for a long moment.

"We will proceed somewhat differently than the Headmaster and I had initially planned," Snape replied drawing his lips into a thin line. "This is in part due to the rather amazing diligence to which you have already applied yourself to your own training," Snape admitted grudgingly, thinking of the rather amazing wandless _detonation_ hex the boy had thrown at him during the earlier battle. His subsequent flight through the air would not have taken out nearly as many Death Eaters with a _blasting_ curse. That was to say nothing of blocking a Killing Curse with a flower pot of all things. Not to mention it saved his own life, Snape thought, impressed with the boy against his will.

Harry flushed slightly under the unexpected praise.

"And putting aside my rather severe rebuke of you regarding your attendance at the wedding and the incident with Nagini," Snape continued, causing Harry to go a shade redder and Snape to look embarrassed as well. "I do believe you gave us an unforeseen advantage." Oh but it hurt to admit this to the boy. " The Dark Lord's magic was seriously, although temporarily, weakened by her loss. We should probably begin with reviewing the snake's memories and proceed from there." Snape paused, waiting for a response.

"Okay," the boy said reaching in to his pocket for the small square vial that was full of viscous looking gray vapor. Hermione had helped him charm the vial to be unbreakable and bottomless, Harry told the older wizard. "It took forever to fill," Harry explained handing the bottle to Snape.

"According to my accounting there are two Horcruxes remaining, excluding the one the Dark Lord carries," The older wizard gave the vial a satisfied little nod before palming it. "Perhaps this vial is the answer to finding them,"

"Two?" Harry questioned. "The real locket has been destroyed then?" the boy asked in surprise.

"It was," Snape affirmed. "By R.A.B."

"Regulus Black right?" the boy offered confidently, explaining that he knew Regulus had been Sirius' brother and was murdered because he tried to quit the Death Eaters.

"Ah, no." Snape tsked as though the younger wizard was a tad dim. "Ruldolphus Alejandre Burke," the older wizard supplied smugly.

"Of Borgin and Burkes?" the boy asked, surprised.

"You remembered that the Dark Lord began his career there did you not?" Snape sneered down his nose.

"That's right," the boy said, suddenly remembering.

"That was to have been a hint," Snape explained, as though proud of the mystery he had designed. "It was to have been part of your quest to recover the fake Horcrux as well." The older wizard paused a moment. "But, alas things progressed rather quickly when you and the Headmaster returned that night."

Snape's expression darkened, and Potter seemed to cast around for something to say to lighten the mood. Before he could the older wizard spoke again.

"Bed," he ordered the boy pointing at the four poster. "I'm just down the hall. I'll wake you in a few hours,"

Both Harry and Snape were woken in less than an hour. One by the terrible burn in his forearm and the other by the searing pain of his scar.

Snape opened his bedroom door, cloak and mask in hand, to see the boy stumbling toward him from the end of the hall. He looked hauntingly like he had when he came to rescue Draco: bare chested, baggy pajama trousers hanging low on his thin frame, and lightening shaped scar burning red with a faint sheen of blood.

"Back to your room Potter," Snape ordered, catching the boy by the arm and leading him back to bed. "How do you normally care for yourself when this happens?" the older wizard asked at a loss.

"You'd better go sir," came the unexpected response. "He's really angry." The last chilled Snape where he stood.

"Can you see him?" Snape wanted to know. The boy shook his head once.

"Feel him..." he rasped

"Potter, attempt to Occlude your mind," the older wizard ordered sternly. The boy snickered, then choked a bit.

"Potter, no matter what you see, you are not to approach the Dark Lord's chamber! Is that clear?" Snape warned desperately, "Or I promise you boy, your punishment will be most severe..." the man stopped himself mid rant, staring at the skinny half clothed child. The boy's scar was bleeding, and he might probably spend at least part of the next little while being possessed by the Dark Lord. What punishment could Snape come up with to top that? The older wizard squatted down in front of Potter so he was level with the boy as he sat on the bed.

"Promise me you will do as I say," the older wizard said firmly while taking the too thin shoulders in both of his hands.

Potter, seeming rather shocked by this approach, nodded his head once.

"Yes, sir," he responded weakly.

"Good," Snape nodded in return. "I will return as soon as I am able," the man said pushing Potter back on the bed with and a concerned look and gently pulling the blankets around him. Something in the older wizard rebelled against leaving the boy in this condition, but there was little choice when the Dark Lord was summoning him. He remembered vaguely that when he was a boy Albus always used lay a cool towel on his forehead when he was ill, and Poppy thought it essential that there always be a pitcher of water. Snape conjured both of these and lay the damp cloth gently over Potter's eyes after placing the water with in easy reach.

Slipping on his cloak as he quit the boy's room, he made for the front door and the apparation point between the cliffs.

Potter was correct, the Dark Lord was angry. And once again he had the magical power to express it fully.

"_Crucio_," he hissed when Snape first appeared in front of him.

_**Hope you liked it. Don't forget to review**._

___**I tried to write this chapter from both Snape and Harry's POV. Let me know in your reviews if the POV was too muddled or hard to follow. Shifts are indicated by the 888. **_


	18. Voldemort

**Disclaimer**: J.K. owns 'em. Everyone is clear on that, right?

**Authors Notes**: Thank you. Thank you. Thanks to those who have been following along for a while, and thanks to those who tell me they just discovered the story. Many thanks to those of you who write long reviews, and those who write short reviews. I'm even grateful for those who write no reviews, but are enjoying the story none the less. One reviewer found the idea of the the fake Horcrux being a test unrealistic. My response is on my profile page. I'll leave it up for a few days.

**excessivelyperky** seriously rocks! Thanks so much for all your hard work.

**Enjoy**

**Chapter 18**

**Voldemort**

Severus was relieved to discover that it was Bellatrix, and not himself, who was to receive the _Cruciatus_ as he apparated to his place in the Dark Lord's circle. However, that did not stop the man from flinching as the curse found its mark. Snape attempted to look dispassionate as the woman's hard-featured face contorted and her body writhed in pain upon the floor.

Merlin, but the Dark Lord was brutal. Lestrange had probably spent the whole night helping to nurse him back to health, and this was her reward. There was no sign of the healer either. Snape could well imagine what had befallen that unfortunate soul. This was probably Bella's payment for seeing the Dark Lord weakened, Severus realized. And by this logic, Severus knew he would probably come under the cruel attention of his master's wand before the night was out as well, if for no other reason than the Dark Lord would want to demonstrate that his powers had been returned fully. And if Bella's twitching anguish was anything to go by, they had been. The Dark Lord would not be concerned about spineless little Pettigrew, Severus thought, giving the rodent a disdainful glare. Pettigrew would always obey his master, no matter how weakened.

Severus deliberately tried to put aside the fear that the Dark Lord may have seen him through Potter's eyes. It was clear that Potter was not yet being possessed when Severus left him at the beach house. The slightly fearful, anguished eyes that had looked out from the boy's pale face had still been his own, though it had troubled Severus unexpectedly to see them clouded with such pain. That the boy's scar bled was particularly disturbing. Severus had stared at it in awe when Potter had rescued Draco. The boy had to bloody well learn how to Occlude and that was all there was too it, Snape thought with determination. Hopefully the Dark Lord would be reluctant to possess Potter so soon after having had the boy turn things on him so unexpectedly the last time.

Severus realized abruptly that he had better heed his own advice and curb his thoughts. Though his mind was well Occluded, it paid to be especially careful. He still feared, as he always did when summoned to the Dark Lord's circle, that this time his treachery had somehow been discovered.

Circle was perhaps a misnomer for the arrangement of the followers. For it was in fact many circles that spiraled outward as they widened, and the Death Eaters apparated to positions according to rank. Severus was part of the inner circle along with Pettigrew and Bellatrix. The inner circle and those on the outskirts were made conspicuous today by those who were absent, Severus noticed. He dared to look around, drowning out Bella's piteous wails with effort. There were numerous empty spots. In the inner circle Groggier and LaMonde were missing. They had moved forward in ranks after the arrests of Malfoy and Nott. All four were in Azkaban now, after the disastrous attack on Privet Drive, Severus realized.

The Dark Lord gave his wand one last menacing twirl in Lestrange's direction, and then lifted it with a satisfied flick. He held it in an oddly dainty manner as he turned his menacing gaze on Snape.

"Bella was being chastised," the Dark Lord explained to Snape, "for suggesting that _you_ would have forgotten to join us, as many of our comrades seem to have done." The Dark Lord hissed, indicating the empty spots in the inner circle in particular. So this was the cause of his anger. Severus could not determine by his tone if he already had been informed of the failed raid on Privet Drive.

"I am very pleased to see you, Master," Snape filled his voice and mind with a feeling of joy and relief as he approached and knelt to kiss the hem of the Dark Lord's robes. Severus hated this ritual most of all, as the hem of his master's robes seemed to be perpetually crusted with bits of filth. Severus did not bother putting aside the dread that he himself would no doubt be chastised before the night was over, as he touched the revolting fabric to his thin lips. The Dark Lord relished in feeling the fear of others, and Snape used this to his advantage whenever possible. However, it was always a delicate balance, for neither did one want to appear too weak. Severus let the fear of possible punishment ripple just on the surface of his thoughts as the Dark Lord caressed the back of his head with a slimy affectionate gesture.

"Have you nothing to report, my dear Severusss?" Voldemort hissed, indicating the man could stand. "Perhaps you have information as to why we are so few?"

"I do, my master," Snape admitted, bracing himself. "There was an unauthorized attack at Harry Potter's home last night, and perhaps thirty of our number were captured and taken to Azkaban. Groggier and LaMonde, were among them," he explained, indicating the two empty spaces in the inner circle.

"And you know of this how?" the Dark Lord questioned angrily.

"I regret that I ventured to Privet Drive without your permission my master," Snape stated apologetically. "I went to see if I could discover the whereabouts of Nagini and young Malfoy." Snape had prepared this lie ahead of time, and he was careful to mention Nagini first, as though she were the more important of the two.

"And did you find her?" the Dark Lord apparently could not have cared less about Malfoy.

"Before I had an opportunity to explore thoroughly, the dark mark was set off in front of Potter's home, and approximately thirty of our number apparated to that location," Snape reported factually.

"You had no knowledge of this action beforehand?" Voldermort demanded threateningly.

"I did not, my master," Snape replied, trying to appear appalled by the behavior of the others. "They were quickly met by slightly superior forces which included Potter and Draco Malfoy, whom I suspect may have been under the _Imperious_ curse.

"Malfoy fought against us?" the Dark Lord spat dangerously. Apparently forgetting momentarily that it _was_ an unauthorized raid.

"The boy was not operating of his own free will. It was quite obvious, my lord," Snape said adopting an air of confidence. "His demeanor. His reflexes."

"And did you join the fight, Severuss?" The Dark Lord hissed dangerously.

"I did but briefly, my lord," Snape affirmed, expecting a curse at any moment. "I thought perhaps to capture Potter and force him to reveal the whereabouts of Nagini." Severus thought it safest to stick to the snake story "And of course I would have brought them both to you, my master, unharmed if I were able."

"Yet you failed?" the Dark Lord accused.

"Forgive me, Master. The opposition redoubled their efforts, when one of their number was struck down by an Killing Curse." Snape explained. "When they began binding people for transport to Azkaban I fled."

"You fled?" this seemed to make the Dark Lord angrier still. Snape attempted to adjust his lie accordingly.

"I did, my master," Snape replied earnestly. "My main concern was for Nagini. So I apparated nearby and concealed myself until it was safe to continue my search. I regret I was unable to recover her." Snape managed to sound _very_ regretful.

"Are any of those who participated here now?" Voldemort demanded in a tone Snape found chilling. "Point them out," the Dark Lord ordered. "They shall be dealt with immediately."

Snape reluctantly scanned the outer circles again. He spied two of his former Slytherins in the apprentice circle. A twin boy and girl, Noble and Royal Monroe, who had been three years ahead of Draco, had definitely been at Potters' house. Bloody dunderheads. Snape fixed them with his best, _I'll deal with you later_, Head-of-House glare. It was always thought that Snape was lenient with his Slytherins because he never took points and rarely gave detentions. However, any student who belonged to his house could tell stories of the humiliating tedium of the Potions Master's in house punishments. Depending on the offense, an unlucky snake might find themselves confined to their dorm room all weekend, or on their hands and knees scrubbing the common room flooring. These had been two of his most brilliant students in Potions and then Defense. Snape had not uttered a word to either of them since they took the Mark at the beginning of summer. He let his glare rest menacingly on the two for a moment before moving on.

"No one that I remember my lord," Snape lied as he turned back to face the Dark Lord. "I remained near Potter's home until a short time ago, long after the battle, hoping to recover Nagini." Snape continued, trying to fill in any gaps in his story, and impress upon the Dark Lord his diligence in trying to recover the snake. "I overheard Potter's Muggle relatives saying the boy was gone. My guess is Nagini and Malfoy are with him." Severus sounded indignant. "Merlin only knows how he intends to use them both."

"Nagini is dead, my Severusss," the Dark Lord declared with certainty. Snape wondered for a moment if he had seen through the charade.

"I am sorry, Master." Severus thought perhaps agreement was the safest course.

"I have a theory as to why Potter took Malfoy," and here the Dark Lord grinned nastily. "Do you wish to hear of it, my Severuss?"

"Of course my Lord," Serverus settled for a response that was a delicate mix of enthusiasm and fear.

"I believe our young Mr. Potter is incapable of watching anyone he knows personally suffer pain. And previous hatred matters not." The man's smile grew nastier. "He finds suffering intolerable and if he is able he will interfere."

"I'm not certain I understand, my lord." Severus feared he understood all too well.

"Ah but you will Serverusss. You will," Voldemort hissed menacingly. And if Potter interferes this time we shall be ready. Is that not so?" He indicated Bella and Wormtail. Bella had not yet fully recovered from being cursed, but seemed greatly heartened by the prospect of up coming events.

"We shall, my lord," the two replied in unison

"Leave us!" the Dark Lord ordered all but Severus, Wormtail and Bella. "But be warned," he snarled, as they rushed to obey. "Any further unauthorized activity will be punished most severely."

His followers hastened to disapparate.

"_Crucio_," the Dark Lord hissed a laugh as he began. And though Severus did not scream or fall to his knees right away, he did begin to twitch.

888

Harry brought his head up with a start, and the cool towel that Snape had placed there, fell to his chest. With a sickening feeling he watched through eyes that were suddenly not his own, as Snape was held under the _Cruciatus_ for a insanely long time. Harry was first amazed that the man did not fall, but at last he did and his deep guttural screams seemed to becoming from inside Harry's head. I've got to go to him, Harry thought and gripped the Angelth trying to push aside his promise and forcing resolve to take shape.

He felt overwhelming concern and another, deeper emotion he could not quite identify, and if he could , he would not have applied it to Snape. Harry had the impression of spiky tendrils reaching into his consciousness and cautiously tasting his emotions, and suddenly he felt a feeling of triumph and excitement that were not his own well deep in his chest. _Occlude your mind, Potter_! How many times had Harry heard that? This time it was not Snape's voice but his own stern impression of the Potions Master.

What had Graydian Crawlenton's book said? It was all about emotion. Harry had read _Protecting the Mind_ his first week home along with two others on Occlumency. He had cast a concealment charm on Snape's notations, which were extremely personal and frankly embarrassing. Much of the book made no sense. It did not remotely resemble anything Snape tried to teach him. Harry would not have bothered reading it at all had the Headmaster not suggested the book was a good one. Crawlenton spoke of gentle sympathetic Occlumency pathways, and the trust and love between a student and teacher. None of it made sense in the context of Snape's harshly uttered Legillimens that was akin to raping Harry's mind, leaving him broken and battered on the dungeon floor.

However, Crawlenton's discussion of emotion was informative. After reading the book and the others on the subject, Harry noticed that he began to unintentionally Legillimize Mrs. Figg and his muggle relatives. Snape had said it was because he was a natural Legillimens the night he had caught Harry training in the Figg garden. Harry hadn't known how to take that, and was afraid to ask, since he had actually enjoyed talking to Snape about his training. Snape had even praised him, which was odd but it had made Harry feel unexpectedly pleased, as had the praise Snape had offered when showing Harry to his room in the beach house.

When Harry was with his relatives or Mrs. Figg, he found that he was able to push their unwanted thoughts out of his mind by muting his emotions. It was by feeling anger at his relatives or deep appreciation for Mrs. Figg that allowed the words, "_Ungrateful freak_," or "_What a dear boy_," to travel unbidden into his mind. It was always emotion that had allowed Voldemort to enter Harry's mind as well. Negative emotions like with his relatives. And thus far it had been positive emotions that allowed him to push Voldemort out. Harry wondered if the muting technique would do any good or if that just worked with Muggles.

With a slightly frustrated air Harry tried to put his finger on the phantom emotion he seemed to feel for Snape just now. It was similar to what he felt for Draco during the rescue. That was how Harry had attacked Voldemort's mind. On some vague level Harry understood that the emotion he felt for Draco had been connected to Snape as well. Harry had not been able to bear the thought of Snape being forced to curse Draco. He continued to watch in his mind's eye as the man writhed on the floor and Harry's heart literally ached.

Then he felt the spiky tendrils again, and the feeling of victory more pronounced than it was before. Harry pondered the intruder emotion, seeming to poke at it with tendrils of his own. Unlike previous encounters, Voldemort seemed pleased to feel this positive emotion. Harry allowed himself to feel the emotion more fully this time. His mind filled with a deep painful concern for Snape. It was unmistakable, the triumph and joy that filled his heart had a distinctly predatory feel, and his scar began to bleed freely. This was something new. Why was Voldemort enjoying this? Was it a trap, like with Sirius? As much as Harry had deliberately allowed the concern in, he now purposefully pushed it out. Suddenly the triumph and joy were gone as well, as though they had been deliberately sucked out with a vacuum.

The first thing Harry noticed was that his scar ceased to bleed. After a couple of wipes with the towel his hand came away clean. With clear thinking deliberation Harry made his way to the potions lab which Snape had pointed to on the tour of the house. Oddly enough he had not forbidden Harry to go in there, but Harry knew it would hardly stop him if he had. Looking at the books that lined the shelves, Harry dispassionately found one that might contain a potion for the effects of the _Cruciatus_.

888

Voldemort lowered his wand and it was clear he intended to rest for a moment. Perhaps he was not as recovered as it appeared, Snape thought hopefully from his pain riddled heap on the floor.

"I thought I had the boy for a moment," Voldemort explained in frustration. He addressed his concerns to Snape as well as Bella and Pettigrew, as though they had all come up with this brilliant plan together.

"He hates me, my lord," Snape stated from his shattered heap from the floor.

"He felt love for you a moment ago, Severusss," Voldemort hissed.

For all his pain, Snape gave his master a rather impertinent, incredulous look.

"It's true such emotions are foreign to me," the Dark Lord said as though defending himself. "I can clearly sense his hatred of you as I could his hatred of Malfoy, but at the same time he does not want you to be hurt." The Dark Lord gave Severuss an intent stare. "How do you explain these conflicting emotions?" he demanded.

"I cannot my lord," Severus wheezed.

Voldemort looked at the man as though he were a botched potion.

"_Crucio_," he barked petulantly.

888

After filling four vials with the completed _Cruciatuserum_, Harry was uncertain how to proceed. Entering Snape's bedroom, he carefully placed the vials on his night table, as though having them ready would cause the man to return. He was afraid to risk speaking to Dumbledore via the Angelth with Voldemort experimenting with something new. It had been an incredible risk when Harry had spoken to Dumbledore about wanting to rescue Draco, even though he had spoken with the Angelth facing away from him.

"You contacted me while you are being possessed?" The Headmaster had asked with dark incredulity. And though Harry could not see his face, he was certain the man had not been smiling.

It was difficult to believe that was just last night, Harry thought as he sat down on the Potion Master's bed, repositioning the vials of potion on the night table. The Headmaster was probably cross with him, Harry realized, as he had disobeyed him about going to get Draco. Yet another good reason for not using the Angelth, Harry thought as he looked around Snape's room. The spacious chamber was much like his own only the walls were adorned with well stocked bookshelves. The highest shelves held decorative vials that Harry would have guessed were antiques.

Harry's gaze halted suddenly. In the center of the shelf that held the vials was a pensieve. Harry swung his head abruptly to the desk he noticed on his way in the room. There sat the square vial of Nagini's memories that he had given to Snape this morning.

888

The Dark Lord was emotionally inept, Snape thought, as the man stopped between curses to again ask how someone could feel love and hate at the same time. This had been going on for the better part of two hours. The curses were getting weaker and the man's breathing was becoming labored. Not that he hadn't caused Snape substantial damage before his energy had began to flag.

The Dark Lord thought emotions were straight forward, which was essentially how Severus had been able to remain as a spy all these years. It was simple for Severus to present him with the honest emotion of hating the Headmaster, but the Dark Lord would never understand the human complexity that would allow love to exist at the same time to an often greater degree.

It was this very ignorance that had caused the Dark Lord to murder Severus' parents when he was eighteen, and present their deaths to the young man as though they were a gift. Severus had been far too casual about allowing the Dark Lord to see the hatred of his parents in his mind.

The Dark Lord was a master Legillemens and Occlumens and made sure all new apprentices were tutored in this skill by either himself or their sponsors. As Lucius' father, Abraxas, had never been adept at this skill, the Dark Lord saw to the tutelage of the two promising young apprentices personally.

The brutally cast Legillemens that seemed to scour his mind for secrets until his sense of survival forced him to defend himself was a far cry from the gentle intimacy of the instruction Albus had provided. Severus did not know how he would have fared under the Dark Lord's teaching had he not already been a master of the skill. There were certain things he allowed the man to see, and his hatred of his parents was one of them. The Dark Lord delighted in images of small Severus being beaten with a belt or other object. His favorite seemed to be the one where Tobias had almost killed young Snape when the boy was caught using magic. Severus lay awake most of that night wishing both his parents dead.

Severus knew he had been mistaken in allowing the Dark Lord to indulge himself in this memory, the night he and his followers had apparated to the small Muggle house in Spinner's End where Severus was born and raised. The young man watched and did nothing as his parents fell in a horrible flash of green light.

The Dark Lord embraced Severus, while whispering in his ear.

"You are my child now," the Dark Lord asserted.

Severus thanked him sincerely, while declaring in his own mind.

"I am not!" in fierce denial.

For there was only one person he was a child of now. It was during the months when the Headmaster wasn't speaking to him. Serverus was unsure if he would be seen, and indeed the Headmaster made to turn him away as he approached the castle doors, having run all the way from Hogsmeade.

"Father, Please," Severus said breathlessly before his pride could stop him. It was only occasionally the young man called the Headmaster this, and it was usually when Albus was being unreasonably stern and Severus was feeling vulnerable.

Though the boy was eighteen, the night found him crying piteously in to the softness of the Headmaster's beard.

"Forgive me," he whispered again and again.

The Headmaster insisted that he already had been forgiven, and assured Severus he was loved while gently stroking the raven hair.

"I am not his child," Severus stated defiantly from his place against Albus' broad chest.

"No. You are mine," Albus confirmed, laying a gentle kiss on the dark head. "It has always been so."

The next morning found Severus asleep on a couch just outside the Headmaster's bed chamber with a warm blanket tucked up around his chin. He sat up gingerly and noticed that the Headmaster's door was ajar. He stood and began to fold the blanket and noticed with a start the Headmaster was standing in the doorway.

"Good morning, Severus," the old wizard had greeted, pulling his dressing gown around his tall frame.

"Good morning, Headmaster," the younger man returned shakily, not quite meeting the older wizard's eyes. Severus had wondered desperately if last night had simply been a truce. Albus had been punishing him and deservedly so he realized now more that ever. Severus could not believe he had ever threatened to join Voldemort in earnest.

"I'll earn back your trust," the boy promised tentatively when he plucked up the courage to meet the clear blue eyes.

"Yes, you will, Child," the Headmaster replied in a way that was stern, full of love, and a bit of an order really.

"Yes sir," Severus said, swallowing hard as he turned to go. "Thank you, Headmaster," he said opening the door and was gone.

How could the Dark Lord understand the complexity of this? Severus thought in the here and now, as he struggled to regain his knees. The Dark Lord failed to realize that a little boy wishing his parents dead would not enjoy watching them murdered.

The Dark Lord's curses were most definitely weakening and it was giving Severus the chance to recuperate. Real recovery would probably be several potions and a good nights sleep away, Severus thought ruefully, as he was racked again by spasms against the ground.

It was the complexity of human emotion that allowed Severus to cement his status with the Dark Lord after the death of Dumbledore. It was ridiculously easy for Snape to show the Dark Lord his hatred of the Headmaster for what the man had ordered him to do. It was also what had allowed Snape to cast the curse in the first place. In the moments before Albus had died, Severus had absolutely loathed the Headmaster for forcing him to take such an action. No matter how much they had discussed it, and how much the Headmaster considered it a major step in the Dark Lord's defeat. But at the same time it was Severus love and devotion that made it possible for him to animate the Angelth.

The Dark Lord would never comprehend. Severus had this thought for the fiftieth time as the Dark Lord rested between _Crucios_ and asked him how it was possible to love and hate at the same time.

"I don't believe it is, my lord." Snape decided to respond instead of the standard _I don't know_ he had been sticking with for the past two hours. "It was a brilliant plan, my lord. I wish the brat had shown up. But truly, Potter hates me, and I don't think it is possible to feel love and hate at the same time," Snape stated in innocent contemplation.

The Dark Lord looked dumbfounded.

"Have you ever heard of it, Pettigrew?" Snape asked the rodent.

"No..." Pettigrew began uncertainly. "No, I haven't," the rodent asserted stupidly, looking from Snape to Voldemort. Snape silently awarded points to Gryffindor.

"Your magic is weakened, my lord," Snape dared respond as the Potions Master gained his knees with maximum effort. The Dark Lord looked angered by Snape's impertinent assertion, though he did not look surprised. Snape adopted a look of pure concern.

"Master, you are not well?" Bella asked in anxiety. Snape could hardly believe it after the _Cruciatus_ the man had dealt her earlier. Perhaps she was just pretending, like he was, the man speculated. But then again, Bellatrix was insane.

"Is the healer still about?" Snape inquired knowing full well the answer.

"Master told me to kill him," Pettigrew breathed, looking at the Dark Lord as though he feared he would be punished for it later.

"What were the potions he was given?" Snape was fairly certain they would not have thought to inquire about the potions. He was not disappointed by the dumb expressions on the three faces. He would have laughed if he were not sure he would cough up blood.

"I didn't think to..." Bella stopped herself as though realizing she was taking the blame.

"Well," Snape began, and was racked by spasms before he could continue. "Perhaps you should assist Master to his chambers. Rest will undoubtedly help." Bella and the rodent moved to comply. "Have I your permission to go and heal myself, my lord?" Severus asked as Pettigrew cast a stretcher charm. The Dark Lord acquiesced with a weak nod.

"Regain your strength, my lord," Snape said as though sure it was a temporary set back.

"I will be intent on doing so, Severusss," the Dark Lord hissed, as they bore him down the corridor.

"Your faithful servant, my lord," Snape called after him as the three disappeared from sight.

Let them bloody well figure it out, Snape thought to himself. Feeling far to weak to apparate, he firmly grasped the Angelth.

**_Hope you enjoyed it. Don't forget to review._**


	19. Memories

**Disclaimer:** Wish they were.

**Authors Notes:** Many thanks for the reviews. As always they are greatly appreciated. I'm not sure if this story is AU yet. When I saw stone-faced Severus in **GoF** I began to wonder. Thank you all for reading. 200 reviews!Woo Hoo!

The pensieve scene with Snape shaking Harry and hurting his arm is from **OoP**. When I went back to reread it I hadn't remembered Snape being so rough.

**excessivelyperky **is my hero. Come on! Isn't she your hero too? Many thanks for all your hard work.

**Enjoy **

**Chapter 19**

**Memories**

Harry stood for a moment and watched the tour bus whoosh by. It had not taken him long after viewing a portion of Riddle's memories via Nagini's mind in the pensieve to realize that he could probably get back to Hogwarts the way they had come. Now upon returning to the little beach town with a mix of triumph and trepidation, Harry stepped out across the road.

Destroying Hufflepuff's cup had been a bit anticlimactic really, now that it was over. And as with so many of Harry's victories, more luck than skill was involved. Harry had plunged into Nagini's memories after seeing Snape tortured. He reasoned that if another Horcrux could be destroyed, Voldemort might be weakened again. The boy hadn't really expected to find anything he'd be able to solve right away, but decided to give it a try. After dumping the memories in to the pensieve, and giving them a bit of a stir, he recognized an image similar to one he had seen with the Headmaster.

Once again Harry found himself in the pensieve alongside a young Tom Riddle in the home of Hepzibah Smith and her house-elf, Hokey. Unlike the memories Harry had viewed with Dumbledore, there seemed to be a greater degree of separation. It was as though Harry were looking at the memories via a reflection in a mirror that was badly in need of re-silvering.

Miss Hepzibah was not present in the memory, but Riddle sat in the kitchen with Hokey as though they were old friends. It was obvious that Hokey was as much enamored of Riddle as her mistress was, and the man blatantly flattered the little creature.

"But Master Riddle is too kind," squeaked Hokey. "He shouldn't take his time just to visit Hokey."

"Why should I not, Hokey? We are friends." Riddle intoned, and the little elf smiled wide in pleasure.

When Hokey's back was turned Riddle let a few drops from a dark blue vial fall menacingly into Hepzibah's tea cup that the tiny elf was preparing on the service. Hokey said she loved it when Master Riddle visited her. He did not visit her mistress on these days. Master Riddle was just there for Hokey. It was like with other elves, friends of Hokey's, whose young masters had grown up and moved from their parent's homes. But the good ones always came back to visit their elves.

Harry had viewed the rest of the memory in a bit of a daze. So much of what he and the Headmaster had speculated turned out to be true. Hepzibah died from the poisoned tea served by Hokey later that afternoon. Riddle altered Hokey's memories after relieving the tiny elf of Slytherin's locket and Hufflepuff's cup.

Harry watched in horrible fascination as Riddle used the murder of Miss Hepzibah to carve off a piece of his soul. After uttering a long, complex incantation, Riddle began to spasm and twitch as though he were undergoing a particularly vicious _Cruciatus_. Harry heard a sound like the breaking of a bone, and a wet suctioning noise like the tearing of flesh. Then a single shard, black as onyx and sharpened by the act of being broken, embedded itself invisibly into the golden locket.

"Only by fire shall you be destroyed," Riddle incanted, kissing the locket as he shook off the last of the _crucio_-like effects.

Viewing Riddle's memories via the snake's mind had been a bit terrifying, but it had definitely paid off with his trip to Hogwarts, Harry thought, as he made way back into the little beach town of Glenbeigh, Ireland, that was now alive with people. The bright little shops were all open for business. And as he passed the restaurant his stomach growled in mild protest at the smell of rashers, eggs, and roasted tomatoes. He should have thought to eat again at Hogwarts but had been too anxious to get back. Harry vaguely considered stopping to get a bite, but since he had neither galleons or Muggle money he kept walking. He briefly thought of transfiguring a few shells or pebbles as he stepped out onto the sand, but small objects changed back rather quickly. And a 50 pence coin might well change back to a mussel shell just as Harry was paying for his breakfast.

The next part of Nagini's memories Harry viewed made the boy wonder if Snape or Dumbledore had somehow seen the memory as well. It fit Snape's theory as to who had destroyed Slytherin's locket. Harry had moved forward through the memories and found himself observing Riddle at _Borgin and Burkes_. The burgeoning Dark Lord had been just about to cast a series of spells to protect the Horcrux, standing in the questionable privacy of the back storeroom of the shop. He started with a long incantation that would make anyone who spent time near the locket irrationally fearful of it and desperately desire to be away from the thing.

Ruldolphus Burke entered the storeroom before Riddle had he a chance to continue. The round little wizard was wildly pleased to see the young man had somehow recovered Slytherin's locket. Burke asked no questions as he admired the piece heartily.

"Well done, my boy. Well done." The dumpy wizard exclaimed, as he spirited the locket away, slapping Riddle affectionately on the back.

Riddle looked as though he would spit fire as he watched the plump little man walk away. The memories hadn't shown Burke destroy the locket, though Harry hadn't seen all of them yet. He had been too excited to have stumbled next upon where Riddle had hidden Hufflepuff's cup.

In the here and now Harry wondered if his success in destroying the little badger decorated goblet had done anything to improve Snape's situation. The boy hoped his theory was correct and that Voldemort would be weakened with the destroying of each Horcrux, and that it was not just the connection to Nagini that had made it happen last time.

Harry wondered if Snape had returned to the beach house. As he made his way through the passage in the cliffs, he found himself wishing for the man to be there when he arrived. He was optimistic that Snape had survived the _Cruciatus_ intact, and Harry shuddered to think of the alternative. The boy quickened his pace across the sand. He had just entered the front room of the beach house when Snape abruptly appeared before him sprawled on the floor.

"Professor," Harry exclaimed, more pleased than he would have imagined, but he took an involuntary step back just the same. The boy cringed slightly when he got a good look at the pale bloodless face and pain filled eyes.

"Can I..." Harry began tentatively, reaching for the older wizard's arm.

"I believe I can manage, Potter," Snape responded, rather haughtily, while attempting to gain his knees.

"Right..." Harry watched in painful silence as the man got to his knees and then was racked by spasms as he fell to the floor again.

"_Wingardium_..." Harry began gently.

"Don't you dare, boy!" Snape snarled with such quiet, pain-filled, menace that Harry's wand stilled mid swish.

He bit his lip as he watched the Potions Master struggle to his knees again. This time Snape was able to pull himself up to a chair, before being assaulted by racking coughs. Harry watched in horror as little flecks of blood peppered the man's fist as he coughed against it. The boy took advantage of the noise to whisper a _Veraverto_, transfiguring the lounger into a Muggle wheelchair. He waited for the coughing to subside before he began to push Snape toward his room.

"I said, _no_, Potter," Snape protested, in a voice Harry would not have believed could sound so dangerous given the shape the man was in.

"Yes sir. Sorry," Harry replied nervously, though he continued to push the chair.

When they entered his bed chamber, Snape stared rather furiously, for all his pain, at the vials on his night table.

"I don't remember giving you permission to use my potions lab, Potter?" he stated in snide anguish, indicating the bottles of purple liquid.

For a minute, Harry wondered what had possessed him prepare a potion for this mean bastard. But then the boy shook slightly, remembering Snape's screams.

"Its _Cruciatuserum_." Harry explained unnecessarily, as he helped the older wizard lower himself painfully onto the bed.

"The color is off in all but this one," Snape responded, picking up one vial disdainfully. His body was again racked by spasms. Harry waited for the twitching to subside before he responded.

"I added sleeping draught and nerve fortifier to one, just sleeping draught to the next two, and the fourth is straight _Cruciatuserum_." Harry explained.

Snape arched his eyebrow severely.

"How do you know those combinations are compatible?" Snape sneered in a hard, almost suspicious, tone.

Harry almost told the older wizard he had read about it, but decided that sounded bizarrely like Hermione so he stopped himself.

"Because they all have the same base ingredient?" Harry offered nervously. Snape was making him a bit more tense than usual even though the man was so ill, or perhaps _because_ he was so ill.

"Are you asking me or telling me, boy?" Snape returned, coughing up blood again.

"Telling you, sir?" Harry replied, well aware that it sounded distinctly like another question, as he eyed a new set of spasms with concern.

"How do you know which is which?" Snape scoffed after the worst of the twitching subsided.

Harry waved his hand over the bottles. Words floated in the air above, detailing the contents of each vial.

Snape looked at the boy as though he had just transformed into a manticore.

"What spell was that, Potter?" Snape demanded, and fell into another coughing fit.

Erm... _Revealo_?" the boy responded, picking up one of the bottles so the magical label could be more easily read.

888

This time the Potions Master did not bother to point out that the boy's answer still sounded like a question, as he wiped his bloody hand on a pant leg. Apparently no one had bothered explain to Potter that you could not do a wandless and non-verbal _Revealo_. Snape appraised the boy pointedly, wondering how many other spells he had taught himself this summer that were impossible to learn.

"That will be all, Potter," Snape told him finally, and the boy looked at him in surprise.

Although the boy seemed to clearly catch on that he was being dismissed, he blatantly refused to move. Potter ran a frustrated hand through his untidy hair and placed the vial back on the night table. He flicked his wand impatiently at the chair and transfigured it back into a lounger. Harry gazed toward the door and hesitated slightly as his eyes caught sight of Snape's pensieve on the edge of the desk. Snape noticed it at the same time. The man knew his pensieve had most definitely been on the shelf, along with the antique vials in which he housed his favorite memories, when he had left that morning.

Potter turned around and indicated the pensieve. "Ah..." the boy began uncertainly. "I think we should talk about this later," Harry stuttered as though he thought pretending the use of the older wizard's pensieve was common practice was a good strategy. Snape turned his head toward the bottles, which held his memories and then let his gaze fall menacingly on Potter, indicating that perhaps it _was_ all too commonplace.

"So help me boy if you have been messing about with my memories again I'll show you a hex you'll never forget," Snape threatened in cough-ravaged rage, while pointing a long finger at several ornate vials of varying color, size and shape.

"Your memor...?" the boy began in alarm. "Is that what those are? I mean...I didn't know what those were." Harry shook his head. "I wouldn't... I mean I didn't," the boy was starting to babble. "That is to say, I wouldn't do that again, sir." Snape was a bit surprised to hear such a response and looked into the boy eyes to discern the truth. He was astonished to find the boy's mind for once completely Occluded.

"You are Occluding your mind?" Snape demanded, more in amazement that the boy had managed to block his thoughts, than the notion that he might be hiding something.

"Am I?" Potter asked showing surprise himself. "I didn't know..." And with this dumfounded response the boy's shields suddenly dropped.

Snape saw an image of himself in his dungeon at Hogwarts. He had caught the boy in his pensieve. In horrified, pain racked fascination, Snape was pulled unwilling into the boy's mind. Snape watched as the image of himself tightly grasped Potter's arm, and screamed into the terrified young face. He shook the boy so hard that his glasses began to slip down his nose. After departing at top speed, in a spray of glass and cockroaches, Potter stopped to massage his much abused arm with a soft hiss.

Snape had not recalled being quite so harsh. The memory bounced forward and Potter was talking through the Floo to Lupin and Black, asking them to account to him for his father's behavior, demanding in a slightly anguished voice to know how James could have been that cruel...

"Occlude your mind, Potter." Snape ordered, when he caught his breath and balance. The memory was immediately shut off.

The boy met his eyes expectantly.

"Did I do it?" Potter wanted to know.

"You did," Snape affirmed in shaky confusion. _Potter had been upset by his father's behavior_. "We shall work on your control later."

"Brilliant..." a smile lit the boy's face.

"As to the unauthorized use of my pensieve," Snape began raspily, effectively removing the boy's smile.

"We should really talk about it later," the boy said again, a bit cheekily Snape thought. "You should have a bit of potion and rest. That way when we talk about what happened with the pensieve if you want to yell or hex me or anything you'll have your strength back."

"You examined Nagini's memories?" Snape demanded.

"Yeah," Harry admitted. "When I saw you being tortured I felt like Voldemort was laying a trap or something. I was able to shut him out too, and my scar stopped bleeding. When I saw your pensieve in here I thought there might be something in the memories that might help?"

"And was there?" Snape insisted.

"I dunno," Harry said cautiously. "Were his powers weakened again?"

Snape looked at the boy in awe. "You _did not_ destroy and another Horcrux?" Snape asked with equal parts of dismay and admiration.

"I kinda think I did, Professor," Harry admitted sheepishly. "I'm fairly certain Kreacher destroyed Hufflepuff's cup for us."

"Potter...?" Snape said in clear confusion.

"Yeah. But like I said we should discuss it later after you have had a chance to rest. I think you should take this one first," the boy said indicating the potion which contained both sleeping draught and nerve fortifier.

Snape paused, making the boy squirm beneath a long hard glare before accepting the proffered potion and downing it in a gulp.

Harry pushed him gently back into the bed. He reached down to slip off the man's boots.

"I am perfectly capable..." Snape slurred a complaint.

"Right, sir. Sorry," Harry responded mildly, wrestling with the second boot.

"When I awake you will explain just what in the seven hells..." Snape began weakly before Harry cut him off.

"Later," Harry reminded mildly. "So you call yell and hex me. Remember?"

"Don't think I won't, boy..." Snape scoffed lightly as sleep threatened to overtake him.

"No, I don't think you won't, sir," Harry agreed as the man drifted off to sleep.

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Harry returned from his bedroom with his wandless magic text and allowed his hand to hover gently above Snape's form as he had done so recently with Malfoy. He sensed numerous tears in the soft tissue of the man's internal organs. Using the healing spell just as the book directed, he silently bade the tissue to mend. Harry was exhausted when he finished, but he thought it had done the trick. He would have to brew some magic replenisher for himself later, and perhaps some organ mending potion for Snape to reinforce his work.

Suddenly unsteady on his feet, Harry fell back into the chair and silently watched Snape sleep. As Harry settled himself into the lounger, he wondered if the man might really hex him when he awoke or worse. Harry's mind went unwillingly to the humiliating scene with Gryffindor's sword. Confused that he couldn't summon more anger about it, Harry was fairly certain that had been a one time occurrence. Still, Snape did seem to get the most angry at school when he thought a student was being reckless. And it was true that after realizing where Hufflepuff's cup was hidden, Harry hadn't gone to Hogwarts with much of a plan. Initially he'd only been going to look and see if the cup was there. Then he thought of calling Kreacher, and things moved fairly fast.

Harry had pushed himself out of the pensieve after the image in the storeroom with Burke. He gave the memories a stir hoping to skip ahead to the bit where the locket was destroyed. Instead Harry found himself in a scene of Hogwarts. Tom Riddle, who was no older than he had been in the last memory, was walking the Castle halls with a smiling Headmaster Armando Dippet.

"Remember when you used to take me to the kitchens, Headmaster," Riddle was speaking to Dippet in a sentimental way, "for cocoa, when I had bad dreams?"

Dippet smiled and nodded his head warmly.

"So kind of you to come and visit an old man, my boy," Dippet responded affectionately.

"No sir," Riddle said in a syrupy voice. "It is you who is kind to me. You always have been." Riddle stopped short, a boyish grin breaking his features.

"I've just had a delightful idea, sir." Riddle said mischievously. "Can we go to the kitchens now? It would be fun for old times sake."

Dippet acquiesced with a smile, and an indulgent grandfatherly chuckle.

It was plain to see that the house-elves were as enamored of Riddle as Hokey had been. It wasn't the way they reacted to Harry and Snape, plying them with food. It was like they were star struck and shy. Like the first years were with Harry. The boy watched the memory in dread as Riddle let his hand pass lightly over a distracted Dippet's cup of hot chocolate.

It must have been a different potion than he had used with Hepzibah, for Harry had never heard a rumor that Dippet had been murdered. After a hearty chat and the cocoa finished, the Headmaster begged off saying he was suddenly tired. Riddle claimed to want to visit a few other friends and Dippet gave him his leave to do so. Shaking his hand warmly, he told him he was welcome at Hogwarts anytime.

As Harry watched Riddle sit alone and sip his drink, he knew the exact moment that Dippet died. There was an eerie red gleam in Riddle's eyes, and he wore and oddly triumphant smirk. Riddle excused himself to the toilet and Harry watched in dismay as he repeated the process of depositing a newly severed Horcrux into Hufflepuff's cup. This time he did have time to add the protective curses. In addition to the same one he had placed on the locket, any wizard, save Riddle, who touched the cup would feel the effects of the _Cruciatus_ curse torturing them and the _Imperious_ not allowing them to put the cup down. Anyone trying to destroy the cup would be burned from the inside by an _Incendio_.

Riddle reentered the kitchen after his visit to the toilet, and told one of the little elves he had a gift for Hogwarts and the Headmaster. He told her that his work had allowed him to recover Hufflepuff's cup. They raised their eyes towards the ceiling above the four house tables that would send meals to the great hall. Magically suspended, and enclosed in glass cases, were the place settings for the Four Founders. They were complete with plates and cutlery, all designs unique to the particular founder. All had a drinking cup save Hufflepuff's. The badger design matched perfectly and it was easy to tell it was a set. In the memory, Riddle handed the elf the cup. And Harry exited the pensieve.

The boy had tried to apparate from several places inside and outside the beach house before realizing there must be some sort of barrier. Finally he sprinted to the spot on the road were he and Snape had entered the town. Almost immediately a tour bus appeared. And upon stepping through the door, Harry found himself on the other side of the painting of the beach house in Hogwarts kitchen.

It was extremely quiet, and none of the elves were about. Harry had no idea where they might be. He looked up at the Founders place settings. Hufflepuff's cup seemed identical to the one in the memory. The little glass cupboards floated perhaps thirteen feet in the air. Could it be that simple? Had Riddle really hidden it in such plain sight? Harry had a vague recollection of one of his visits to the kitchen of an elf on a ladder polishing one of the place settings. On a hunch he called for Kreacher who appeared immediately.

"Yes, Master," the disgruntled litte elf responded looking at Harry disdainfully.

"Kreacher, do the elves clean those?" Harry asked indicating the cupboard which held Hufflepuff's place setting.

"It's not Kreacher's turn, Master," the elf muttered. "Kreacher did it last month."

"You cleaned that last month?" Harry asked excitedly. "All of it?"

"Master's complaining about how hard Kreacher works," the elf muttered in an aside.

"No, no, Kreacher. I'm not. Would you mind fetching that goblet down?" Harry asked in mild trepidation.

"Master intends to make Kreacher do it over," the elf said climbing a golden ladder that suddenly appeared. "Poor Kreacher," the elf sighed. "Filthy Half-blood master!" he muttered to himself.

"Wait!" Harry called out before the elf could touch the cup. "Your certain you won't be hurt?" the boy asked anxiously.

"Master intends to punish Kreacher," the elf muttered pitifully. "As you wish, Master," Kreacher said grabbing hold of the cup, and making his way down the ladder.

Harry looked at the elf rather breathlessly.

"Now, Kreacher," Harry said cautiously. "Is there some way you can burn this?"

"Master means to punish Kreacher by making him sit in the oven," the elf muttered. "Oh, Kreacher hates that punishment most of all," he mumbled sadly. "But how did filthy Half-blood master know?"

"No, Kreacher," Harry interrupted impatiently. "I just want you to burn the cup. That all," he said emphatically. "If you feel burning it is harming you in anyway, you are to stop immediately. Is that clear?"

"Of course, Master," Kreacher responded a trifle shrewdly.

The elf snapped his long fingers and Harry watched while the goblet melted out of existence while resting on the palm of his hand.

After a few moments of awed silence. Harry shook himself and spoke.

"That will be all, Kreacher," he told the elf happily.

"Stupid Half-blood master," Kreacher mumbled as he walked away.

Harry gave a bit of a victory whoop as he skipped across the room to the painting and gleefully scratched the brass door knocker.

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Severus Snape awoke just as the sun was beginning to set. He was very aware of his body, and in particular how good it felt compared to when he had first lain down. He sat for several minutes in deep contemplation. The boy's potion seemed to have worked on his nerve endings and the worst of the spasms seemed to be over. It was obvious Potter had healed his internal injuries as well, and as the man coughed delicately against his fist he failed to produce any blood. He wasn't completely healed by any means, but he felt immeasurably better.

Snape was slightly startled by the sound of a soft whimper. He turned and was astonished to see the boy asleep in the lounger by his bed. Potter looked small and incredibly pale, and it was obvious he was in a fitful sleep. Snape sat up a bit too quickly and waited for the dizziness to subside before reaching out to the boy and gently pushing aside the dark hair to examine the lighting shaped scar.

"No, don't drink it, Headmaster," the boy whined. "It's poison." With a pang of guilt Snape realized the boy must be dreaming about the cave. But he was relieved to discover his scar was not bleeding and that he wasn't dreaming about the Dark Lord

"Potter," Snape said gently.

"Riddle's trying to poison you," the boy said more clearly. "Oh, Headmaster Dippet," he said sadly. "Poor Headmaster Dippet."

Snape had been wrong, the boy was dreaming about the Dark Lord. There had been rumors about how Dippet had died. The man looked on in quiet interest and let his gaze linger on the young face. A large wandless magic volume marked the rapid rise and fall of his chest. Snape resisted the urge to smooth the deeply furrowed brow. Who was this strange boy who was arrogant enough to take on the Dark Lord in bare feet and baggy pajama bottoms, yet whimpered like a pup at a bad dream? Severus suddenly couldn't figure out this careless, neglectful student who was abruptly competent enough to perform healing spells and brew complex potions. And had suddenly taken up brewing them for him of all people, in addition to sitting vigil by his bed. Snape listened to the sad little voice so full of empathy for a Headmaster he had never met, and tried to fight against the feeling of protectiveness that abruptly took hold inside him.

"Potter," he said, more sternly than he meant to.

The boy woke with a start. His untidy hair sticking out at odd angles.

"Wha...?" The boy said groggily, rubbing the heels of his hands in his eyes and yawning widely. "Are you okay sir?" the boy asked, scratching himself.

Snape bit back a flip response and perhaps an admonishment regarding scratching oneself in the company of others.

"I am well, Potter. Thank you," he said civilly.

The boy paused mid-scratch and his eyes widened slightly at the mild tone before he recovered himself.

"You still don't look so good," the boy said frankly. "You should drink more potion," Potter suggested, yawning again.

"I have every intention of doing so, Potter," the older wizard replied. "And you will go down to the lab a brew a batch of magic replenisher," Snape told him. "Are you alert enough to accomplish that?"

"Sure," the boy said, coming to complete wakefulness and getting to his feet a trifle unsteadily.

"You are then to drink the potion and go rest in your room. I am certain your magic is weakened from the wandless healing."

"I was going to brew some, but I fell asleep."

"That was fairly obvious from the horrific snores and the great piles of drool."

"I was snoring?" the boy asked aghast, "I drool?" he wiped a hand across his mouth and glanced at the lounger.

"I'm certain you do, Potter." Snape said smartly.

"I do not drool," the boy said with some concern.

"Of course you do, Potter," Snape said firmly, enjoying the boy's unexpected discomfort with the topic. "Potion and then bed," Snape ordered, dismissing him.

He distinctly heard the boy mumble.

"I don't _think_ I snore," Harry said as he made his way down the hall. The man fought off the urge to laugh as he opened up the Angelth for a chat with Albus.

**_Hope you enjoyed it. Reviews are good. Keep 'em coming_**.


	20. The Muggles in Town

**Disclaimer:** You know they're not. How many times to I have to say this? J.K. owns them. The woman has written like six books. Geez!

**Authors Notes:** I can't tell you how much I appreciate your reviews. I read each one like fifteen times, then save it on my computer. I sit in front of my little AOL mail box and wait for them to arrive. I call my sister and tell her what you've said. She knows you all by name, and thinks you're really too kind.

**AngelMoon Girl, **thanks very much for your very sweet review.

I'd like to thank someone who is **perky**! Some might say **excessively** so. I hope you folks are still following the **_Birthday Present_**; it's getting really good!Thanks **excessivelyperky** for all your hard work, and the tremendous talent you bring to the fanfic world.

**Enjoy**

**Chapter 20**

**The Muggles in Town **

Severus felt like it had been forever since he had spoken to the Headmaster, though in reality it had been slightly less than twenty-four hours. A lot had happened in a very short time. And as he filled the man in, Severus was acutely aware of a certain severity of the Headmaster's expression. He wondered several times if Albus was displeased with him. Severus wished the bloody old man would just come out and say if he was. This was typical Albus. Snape often felt in such situations he was expected to guess the source of his mentor's displeasure. He found this practice rather annoying, especially when he had been younger. He had sometimes admitted to, and was scolded for, transgressions Albus had been previously unaware of. Severus brazened forward as though nothing were amiss, a strategy that had served him well in the past.

Snape explained what he knew of Potter finding Hufflepuff's cup, which wasn't as yet very much. He also reported what he overheard of Potter's dream regarding Headmaster Dippet. Severus was fairly certain he saw Albus' expression harden a fraction more, and thought he had stumbled upon the source of the older wizard's irritation.

"I regret I don't have more information yet, Albus," Severus began apologetically. "I intend to talk to the boy further as soon as he awakens."

"Yes," the Headmaster said. "Do ask Mr.Potter to contact me via the Angelth when he awakens as well. I should very much like to have a word with him." At the Headmaster's tone Severus felt a sudden pang of dread in the pit of his stomach. It was the way he used to feel when he was a boy and knew he was in rather a lot of trouble. Strange how the old man's tone could still produce that effect in him. But still if Albus was annoyed with him he wasn't choosing to discuss it just now, Severus thought in frustration.

"Well it will be when I wake up as well, Albus, after I've had a bit more potion." Severus explained, hoping to mellow the old man's temperament by trying to get a bit of sympathy. Although he had been careful not to disclose the full extent of his injuries, nor the intolerable length of the _Cruciatus_

"Are you in need of a healer, Severus?" Albus asked, anxiety coloring the Headmaster's features. Severus was relieved to see the stern expression give way to a look concern. In previous years in a situation like this Albus would have insisted on a lengthy stay for him with Poppy.

"I can't risk it, Headmaster. You know I can't," Severus told the old man. "But I've been taking _Cruciatuserum_, brewed quite competently by Potter, if you can believe it. And I have every intention of recovering."

The Headmaster's expression grew stern again and Snape was on the verge of giving in and asking him if there was something he wanted to discuss. Snape toyed briefly with the thought that Albus might be angry with Potter. But he quickly dismissed it as ridiculous. When was Albus ever angry with Potter? Severus hadn't bothered to rail against the boy the way he often did with Albus. Potter had admittedly taken some reckless chances, which Severus would certainly discuss with the boy at length. But there was no denying the positive results of Potter's actions, Snape thought with a bit of irritation. Before Severus had a chance to decide whether to voice any of this, the Headmaster spoke again.

"No, I know you can't risk a healer, Severus" the Headmaster agreed. "But do take care, and rest well, my boy," Albus ordered with gentle concern.

"Of course I will, Albus," Severus promised, still greatly confused by the Headmaster's demeanor. He tried to push his disquiet aside as he closed the Angelth. When Albus wanted to tell him what he was upset about he would. Snape wasn't going to offer up possible suggestions. _That never ended well_, he thought, steadying himself on the side of the bed. Waving the door closed, Snape began the arduous journey to the wardrobe across the room for a nightshirt.

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Harry felt much better after downing the vial and a quarter dose of magic replenisher and set right away to brewing an organ mending potion for Snape. The man's Potions library was enormous, and most of the books had even more notations than the Prince's _Advanced Potions Making_ text. Harry still separated Snape and the Prince in his head, although he found his feelings for Snape had changed a bit from what they had been at the beginning of the summer, not to mention the last six years. Although Harry had yet to sort out just why. In Harry's mind, the _Prince_ was a peculiar kid about his own age, who was wicked smart with a slightly twisted sense of humor. And now that Harry had seen the picture in the front room on the mantel of the smiling boy on the beach, the Prince looked a bit like him. And _Snape_ was...well... Snape was still pretty much still Snape, Harry thought, as he gathered the ingredients for the potion.

He carefully followed the directions from the Potions book, including Snape's written instructions that suggested gently folding in each ingredient to reduce the side effects, which were sweating and dizziness. The book was called, _The Healing Arts: A Potions Guide to Internal Medicines_. And Harry thought he might enjoy reading it when he was done making the potion. It was full of lots of potions you didn't have to brew in a cauldron_. I really am in danger of turning into Hermione_, the boy thought, with amusement.

Harry wondered how she and Ron were doing. He wondered about all the Weasleys actually, after Bill's death. Harry had only had time to ask Ron to look after Hedwig, and tell him and Hermione that Harry would probably be disappearing to continue his training soon with the person Dumbledore had chosen. He told them not to be alarmed or worry if he disappeared. He was sure they believed he'd be going with some member of the Order, and he didn't clarify their misconception. They had both been far too numb after the tragedy of the battle to ask many questions. And Harry hadn't mentioned that he was certain he would be leaving that night. And indeed, when the boy had entered his room after the battle on Privet Drive, Snape had been there to escort him away.

That seemed like a long time ago already, Harry mused, as he extinguished the flame on the organ mending potion to give the potion a chance to thicken. He ran a studious finger along the safe administration instructions. The text said that the potion needed to be taken with food, and Harry knit his brow remembering that there was as yet no food in the house.

After bottling up the potion and cleaning his cauldron with a flick of his wand, Harry made his way to the kitchen. He wondered if there might be any canned or dry goods about, like his Aunt Petunia always kept for emergencies. A search of the cupboards yielded nothing, and made Harry's stomach growl in protest. He was used to going without meals from years of practice with the Dursley's, but if Snape was to make use of the potion, they'd have to get some food eventually. Harry wondered a little at the oddness of being concerned about Snape's health.

He made his way out into the hallway, and he stopped in front of the Professor's bedroom door. After the slightest hesitation he gave a small knock, which should not have disturbed the man if he had already consumed the _Cruciatuserum_ with sleeping draught.

"Enter," the voice instructed hoarsely, prompting an short fit of coughs. Snape had changed into a long grey nightshirt and was apparently settling in to take more potion and sleep. The coughing was not as pronounced as before, but Harry made note Snape was once again coughing up blood. And the boy was relieved to have brewed the potion.

"I said to rest in _your_ room, Potter," Snape reminded snidely, when the worst of his coughing subsided. "Need I sketch you a little map?"

"I can manage, sir," the boy returned mildly. "While I was at it I brewed a bit of organ mending potion," the boy explained, moving forward to place the vial on the night table. He revealed the contents with a wave of his hand, which included the directions, _to be taken with food_.

"The Headmaster wishes you to contact him after you have rested," Snape told the boy.

Upon hearing this announcement Harry's hand gave a nervous little twitch, knocking the vial of white liquid toward the ground. With skill born of Quidditch and not some cool spell he had learned over the summer, he whipped his hand downward and caught the vial gingerly by the neck. Replacing it on the night table, the boy gave the vial a few gentle pats on the lid.

"Sorry." He muttered apologetically, though whether he was talking to the vial or Snape it was hard to tell. "Did he?" the boy asked after a beat regarding the Headmaster's instructions. "Well, all right. Sure," he said with false brightness. "The instructions are just there," Harry said quite unnecessarily pointing at the instructions left by the _Revealo_.

"Out, Potter," the man ordered with sweeping gesture. "Before I start to suspect you are Madam Pomfrey disguised in Polyjuice."

One half hour later found Harry determining he had gotten on much better with the Headmaster when the man was alive. The boy quickly decided that he should have indeed waited until he'd had proper rest before attempting a conversation with Dumbledore. The man had roundly scolded him for going after the Horcrux alone. Harry tried to defend his actions by pointing out that things had gone all right in the end, and that it had actually been easier than he imagined. If anything this served to make the Headmaster more upset.

"Hubris, Harry," he said sternly. "That will surely undo us in the end if you do not learn to moderate your brash and impulsive behavior." The Headmaster said in a tone that left no room for excuses.

Harry tried futilely to make excuses anyway. Not that he thought his actions that worthy of defense, he was just trying to find something to say so the Headmaster wouldn't be so cross with him.

"I know you meant well, Harry," the Headmaster said in a tone that was a bit more temperate. "But the time is past when we can allow you to rush headlong into any situation regarding the demise of Voldemort without sufficient planning."

The Headmaster ended the conversation by making Harry promise that he wouldn't take such a chance again without careful deliberation and the consensus of either himself or Snape.

Harry had agreed in a subdued way as he closed the Angelth. After his conversation with the Headmaster, Harry sat on the couch in his bedroom staring sullenly into the fire. Honestly, he _had_ gotten along better with the old man when he was alive. The Headmaster never used to reprimand him like this. Harry felt a bit sorry for himself. _Not to mention that Snape had yet to truly weigh in on the matter_, Harry thought, with a bit more dread.

Though Harry thought he would not be able to rest after such a severe dressing down, he quickly fell into a fitful sleep in front of the fire. He dreamt about being in his cupboard. When Harry awoke many hours later the fire had gone out. The feeling of a very empty stomach, the darkness of the room, and the cramped ball he had curled into on the couch, for a moment made him think he was in his cupboard. He always associated it with hunger. Harry pondered that it had been a while since he had felt this hungry, as he stretched himself out on the couch. He had never spent such a well fed summer on Privet Drive.

They would need to get some food in the beach house sooner rather than later Harry reasoned, thinking of Snape coughing up blood again and the organ mender potion. Pushing himself up on the couch he waved up the lights in his room. The clock on the mantel read half four in the morning. Snape should be waking up from the potion in an hour or so, Harry thought, and decided that the easiest thing might be to go and get some food from the kitchen at Hogwarts. Fumbling through his trunk and donning a hooded sweat shirt, he warred with himself about whether or not to alert Snape. He listened intently at the man's door, then waved a silencing spell on the thing, and peeked in. The slightly uneven rise and fall of the older wizard's chest indicated he was fast asleep. Finally Harry opted to leave a note. He placed the square of parchment on the dining room table outside the kitchen before making his way out the front door.

When confronted with the darkness and the harsh sound of the waves slapping against the rocks, Harry was almost inclined to turn right around and go back inside. Casting a _lumos maximus,_ he made his way down the brick stairway and hurried through the passage between the cliffs. Harry reached the end of the sand and made his way into the town proper, when the thought occurred to him that perhaps he needn't go all the way to Hogwarts in search of food.

He looked up at the little restaurant that he had noticed on his way back into town yesterday morning. Harry remembered lovingly the smell of frying rashers. Surely there must be food in the restaurant, the boy thought with a smile, as he looked around the empty town and headed around the back of the little building.

Casting a quick _alohomora_ after looking around again, Harry made his way into the kitchen of the place. A large industrial refrigerator sat in the corner. Setting his wand on a low _lumos_ and placing it on the edge of the counter, Harry wasted no time filling a bag with the ingredients for breakfast. Harry was just congratulating himself on his cleverness when the lights suddenly shown brighter than his wand could account for. And his wand would have certainly been more use than the package of tea he found himself gripping as a rather large and angry man pinned him into the corner.

"Just what is it you think you're doing?" asked the man in a low voice, while restricting Harry's access to air, by resting a burly forearm on the boy's wind pipe. "Eh?" the man snarled when Harry didn't answer quickly enough, and cuffed him with one meaty hand along side his head. Harry would have complained the answer was obvious if the man didn't outweigh him by quite so much. It was a painfully long distance to his wand, Harry noted, as the massive arm held him fast against the wall.

"Food, sir," Harry decided to try the truth first. "I was stealing food," he squeaked due to the lack of air, feeling a bit like Oliver Twist from the Muggle book.

"And why might that be?" the man asked.

Harry thought the pressure on his neck lessened a fraction and decided to continue in the pathetic little boy vein.

"Someone is sick at my house," Harry explained, sounding a bit pitiful in his own ears. "And there is some medicine he needs to take with food, only we haven't got any."

"Nor any money to buy any apparently?" the man said quirking an appraising eyebrow. Harry's baggy castoffs from Dudley made him look like the waif he purported to be. "And where might this house be?" the man finally asked, having relaxed his hold significantly.

Harry gave the general directions of the beach house, and was thinking about diving for his wand when he was surprised by the man's response.

"Old Albus Dumbledore's place," the man asked sharply.

"Yes, sir," Harry responded in dumb shock, all thoughts of his wand gone. He wondered if this big man might be a wizard. "You knew Dumbledore?" Harry asked incredulously, though it made perfect sense. The Headmaster had spent summers here.

"_Knew_ him?" the man asked catching the past tense. "Is he...?"

Harry surprised himself by cutting the man off. Dumbledore didn't seem dead with the Angelth, but Harry just didn't like to hear that word applied to him.

"Last May," Harry answered the question he wouldn't allow the man to speak.

"Is it Severus who's sick then?" the man asked in concern.

"Yes, sir," Harry nodded his head mechanically. This man knew Snape too. Harry continued to nod, thanking Merlin he had not made it to his wand.

"You his boy then?" the man asked.

Still caught up in the up and down motion of his head, Harry realized too late that he had answered affirmatively to this question. He considered abruptly changing directions with his head, but wasn't quite sure how to explain who the heck he was. And he still wasn't sure if the man was a wizard or not.

"I'm Robert," the man offered his hand.

"Harry, sir," just first names then. _Good_, Harry thought, shaking the man's beefy hand.

"Well, grab your bag of food there, and I'll take you to see your Da," Robert said.

Harry looked at the man aghast. This misunderstanding was getting out of hand fast.

"Well, you see, sir," Harry began. "He's not really..."

"Come on," Robert said. "He shouldn't be that hard on you if he's as sick as you say."

"Right," the boy intoned. Up until this point Harry hadn't carefully considered that he might be in trouble with Snape for this. Now that he thought about it, he probably would be. And if Robert was a wizard it would probably be worse.

"Take the bag," Robert instructed again, closing the refrigerator door. "Mind you don't forget your wee lantern," the man said, pointing to Harry's wand still set on _lumos_ on the counter top.

Well that answered one question, Harry thought

"Nox," he whispered as he put the wand in his pocket.

Harry briefly considered _Obliviating_ the man, but he wasn't sure how it worked with Muggles. He hadn't even been sure how it worked when he had tried it on Filch. Harry thought of the other spells he might use, as the man pushed him out the way he had come in with a gentle pressure on his shoulder. No spell made sense without altering the man's memories, Harry thought in frustration.

This was precisely why Dumbledore had been upset with him, Harry realized abruptly, as he stepped out into the early morning light. He was constantly going into situations with only half an idea and no plan at all. What if Robert hadn't gotten the upper hand and Harry stunned him, only to later find out he knew Snape? Harry wished he had continued on to Hogwarts. Better still, he should have just waited for Snape to wake up and asked him what to do about getting some food in the house. _That would have been a novel approach_, Harry thought, with recrimination.

"Get in," Robert said, indicating a little red jeep. "I understand you folks not having any food if you just got in." the man continued once they were strapped in. "But surely Severus has the money for a few groceries, so his son doesn't need to go about behaving the thief," Robert suggested as he started the engine.

Harry didn't know whether it bothered him more that he had muddled things to the point that he was being mistaken for Snape's son, or the fact that the man was probably right. Snape probably did have Muggle money. And if Harry hadn't been so anxious to do things on his own, he could have asked him.

"I'm sure he does, now you mention it," he told Robert. "He was asleep when I left. The next medicine he needs to take has to be taken with food. I just wanted to have some food in the house when he woke up. I guess I didn't think things through very clearly. " Harry said miserably as the jeep bounced along what was apparently the back road to the beach house.

"I'll say," Robert's quick agreement struck at his pride.

"Well, I've never visited the beach house before," Harry explained. "I wasn't sure how we got food." Harry realized it probably sounded strange to this Muggle. It didn't sound that logical to him.

"Well you picked an interesting method," Robert allowed, as the pulled up along side the house.

Harry led the way slowly up the brick stairway. As he and Robert entered, Snape was sitting across the room at the dinning room table apparently just having read Harry's note.

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Snape folded the square of parchment and placed it in the pocket of his rope. He greeted the two new arrivals with a quizzical expression and pulled himself up painfully by the edge of the table. He felt much better after the second dose of _Cruciatuserum_ but movement was still more difficult than normal. Snape hadn't seen Robert O'Brien, the owner of the town's restaurant in about a year. He wasn't at all sure what to make of his appearance with Potter, but if the boy's guilty expression was anything to go by, it was not good news.

"Hello Robert," Snape said as he made his way toward the front entrance.

"Severus, you look like shite," the man said quickly, crossing the distance from the front door to the dinning room and extending his hand.

"Why thank you, Robert," Snape returned dryly as he took the proffered hand.

"Your boy, Harry, told me you were feeling poorly," Robert explained, indicating Snape should sit back down.

Snape looked around the beefy man and quirked a questioning eyebrow in Potter's direction.

"My _boy_ did, did he?" Snape responded, gesturing Robert to sit as well. Potter was a vibrant shade of red and looked as though he might be experiencing difficulty breathing.

"He did," Robert affirmed. "When I caught him stealing food from my place." Robert explained, with false casualness.

"Stealing?" Snape questioned sharply, fixing his dark gaze upon Harry. The boy looked imploringly down at the hardwood flooring as though willing to swallow him whole.

"Still not sure how he managed to get in," Robert said conversationally. He purposefully ignored the tension that had sprouted between the man and the boy. "But he tripped the silent alarm right enough."

Harry looked up briefly at this news, and then looked down again as if silently cursing himself. Snape glared at the top of the dark head few moments longer before speaking.

"Did you manage to steal any tea?" the man finally asked in a snide tone. Harry looked up as if to discern whether or not it was a genuine query.

"Yes sir," he admitted.

"Make some," Snape ordered.

"I didn't know you had a boy, Severus," Robert said, as he watched Harry scurry into the kitchen.

"His mother and I were not married," Snape explained truthfully shooting the boy a look across the little counter opening that allowed him to see part way into the kitchen. The boy said nothing as he readied the teapot.

"I was sorry to hear about Albus," Robert continued sincerely.

Snape nodded his head lightly in appreciation. "How is Liam?" Severus asked, indicating the elder O'Brien, Robert's father.

"He's well. He'll pleased to know your back," Robert smiled. "He'll be sad to hear about Albus," the man added.

"How much do I owe you, Robert?" Snape asked the man after a few moments silence.

"I'd be happy to have you settle up when you come into town for a meal, Severus," O'Brien offered.

"Nonsense," Snape retorted. "Potter," he said tersely. "On the counter there is a ceramic cow. Bring it here." When the boy complied, Snape removed the top half of the cow to reveal a collection of folded notes. Counting out a few he handed them to O'Brien.

"No, that's far too much, Severus," the man complained and handed two notes back.

"Wow," Harry said looking at the cow. "I didn't think to look in there."

"You were searching the house for money, Potter?" Snape asked in the same hard tone he had been favoring with the boy since they had arrived.

"No sir," Harry explained. "Dry goods. I'll just put this back shall I?" He said as he made his way back the kitchen

"Potter?" O'Brien asked. "The boy doesn't have your name?"

"It was the name of his mother's husband," Snape again gave a truthful answer, and felt he was in far too deep to end this charade. What was it with the Muggles in this town? They always wanted to place people in neat family units. It had been the same with he and Albus. Many years ago Robert's father, Liam, had insisted on assuming that Albus and Severus were father and son. And they had remained father and son to the residents of Glenbeigh ever since.

Harry arrived with the tea and served each man a cup before retreating again to the kitchen.

"He seems a fine boy." Robert told Snape as he watched the lad go.

"You caught him robbing your place of business, Robert!" Snape said, incredulously, barely stopping himself from spitting out his tea.

"I'd never begrudge anybody food," the man said sincerely.

"He should have more self control than to let a little thing like an empty stomach cause him to behave like a criminal," Snape said harshly. "I mean to make that clear to him when you've gone."

"Ah, don't be so hard on him, Severus," Robert entreated kindly. "It wasn't his own belly he was worried about anyhow. He said there was some medicine you were taking that needed to be taken with food." The man explained. "What's the matter with you anyhow? If you don't mind my asking."

"It's a bit complex," Snape said, indicating that he did mind.

"Let me know if I can do anything," O'Brien offered.

"Of course, Robert, thank you," Snape said sipping his tea.

"So you've not spent much time with the boy then?" Robert asked. "You said you and him mum weren't together.

"At times it feels like I've spent entirely too much time with him," Snape admitted, not without a hint of amusement." He's a student at the school where I taught, which means I have spent an inordinate amount of time punishing him for wrongdoing. Apparently nothing has changed."

"Where you _taught_?" Robert questioned the past tense "You're not at the boarding school anymore then?"

"I quit after Albus' death. Most people there only tolerated me because he was around." Snape was amazed how true that felt.

"Did Albus, have much of a relationship with the boy?" Robert asked then.

"He absolutely adored him. The child could do no wrong in his eyes." Again Snape thought that truer words were never spoken.

"Its that way with grandparents." Robert opined. "But you just give yourself a chance with the boy and try not to be such a hard arse about today." Robert advised. "The boy meant well. He did it out of concern for you." The man said as he finished his tea and rose to leave.

Snape nodded to indicate he had heard the man and rose to take his hand.

"It was good seeing you, Robert." Snape told him.

"You as well, Severus. Feel better."

The boy emerged from the kitchen to see O'Brien to the door to offer an apology.

"I'll see around this summer, Harry, " the man said giving the boy a friendly wink before leaving.

After closing the front door, Harry seemed to brace himself as he turned to face Snape. The older wizard was amused to note that the boy seemed most apologetic about having mistakenly given O'Brien the impression they were father and son. Snape found himself reassuring the boy that at least that part of the morning's events was probably not his fault. Snape explained that he and Albus had been mistaken in exactly the same way.

"Well, not precisely the same way," Snape amended. "I didn't try to rob the place. Albus would have hexed me to within an inch of my life if I had. Whatever were you thinking?" Snape asked the boy, surprised that he didn't sound nearly as stern as he had intended to.

"I guess I wasn't thinking and that's the point," the boy said in a tone that was remarkably like self-reproach. "Could you do me a favor and not mention this to the Headmaster?" Potter asked.

"And why should I not, Potter?" Snape asked intrigued. He hadn't actually considered mentioning it to Albus.

"He was just already really angry about my going after the Horcrux alone. I don't want him to hear about this on top of it." Potter explained.

"How do you know he was angry?" Snape wanted to know. _Albus angry with Potter_. That made no sense.

"Well it was pretty hard to miss what with the way he told me off," Potter explained in a chagrined tone. "Just please don't tell him, sir. I mean you can punish me if you want to. I'd just appreciate it if you don't tell _him_." The boy wasn't quite begging.

"I can punish you if I want to?" Snape inquired snidely. "I'm certain I don't need your permission, Potter." However, Snape didn't really feel like punishing the boy. It was odd. Punishing Potter was usually one of his favorite activities.

"I just hate to disappoint the Headmaster again so soon," Potter explained. "Do you know what I mean, sir?"

Snape knew exactly what he meant. To most people Albus was a twinkling old man offering lemon drops and words of wisdom Few save himself, and Potter apparently, experienced the myriad of facial expression that lay beneath the twinkling, and the stern words that were some times offered without the benefit of lemon drops. _Potter was ruining all his fun_, Snape thought a bit petulantly.

"Were I you, Potter," Snape said finally, in an extremely stern tone. "I should also concern myself with not disappointing me again so soon in the future."

"Right, of course," the boy responded, seemingly caught off guard by the instruction. "Things happened pretty fast, and like said I wasn't thinking. Then I considered _Obliviating_ him..."

"You and I would be having a much longer conversation in that case." Snape cut him off with a severe look. "I hope I don't ever learn that you have so casually used such a dark spell, Potter."

The boy appeared to swallow hard. "I _really_ hope you don't either," the boy responded fervently.

"Now then, what were your plans for the food you stole," Snape asked, abruptly changing the subject.

"My plans..." the boy began, confused. "To cook it, sir?" He offered uncertainly.

"Extremely logical." Snape conceded. "Proceed." he ordered.

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After a breakfast of fried potatoes, rashers, scrambled eggs and the sweetest roasted tomatoes Harry had ever tasted, the boy found himself surprised to have gotten off so lightly with Snape. After taking the organ mender and plain _Cruciatuserum_, Snape did discuss the pensive and the Horcrux while they ate. But he didn't come down nearly as hard on Harry as the boy thought he was going to.

They had actually spent most of the time discussing how Harry had managed to Occlude his thoughts. The boy had explained that he had used some of the information from Graydian Crawlenton's book, but at Snape's warning expression was quick to point out that he had cast a concealment charm on the Professor's personal notes.

"I actually thought most of the book was rubbish," the boy admitted. "The bit about the Occlumency pathway for example," Harry explained, "couldn't figure that out for the life of me. Maybe I need to study it a bit more," he offered, blaming his confusion on his own inability to comprehend.

"Although that was the method by which I was instructed by the Headmaster," Snape began cautiously. "That was not the way I chose to instruct you."

Harry had raised a surprised eyebrow at the mention of Snape learning the skills and Occlumens from Dumbledore. But otherwise no greater understanding had been brought forth by the man's words.

"It requires a certain familiarity," the man continued as though thinking aloud. "But perhaps if we tried now," he said as if slowly coming to a decision. "It would make any further instruction easier. Yes." The man said after a moment, and with finality. "I believe we should attempt to establish a pathway now."

"What, right now?" Harry asked in shock.

"Yes, Potter. Right now." the man said banishing the breakfast dishes with a determined air. "There needs to be physical contact," Snape explained. "It is simplest if we hold hands," the man said, offering Harry his hand across the table."

"If we hold what?" Harry asked looking at the man's hand like perhaps there were a basilisk egg hidden in it. Snape seemed to be amused or something, Harry noted, mildly horrified.

"It requires a certain intimacy, Potter," the older wizard explained.

The boy looked a bit skeptical and continued to stare at the older wizard's hand.

"Oh, for the love of Merlin, boy!" Snape finally exploded. "Take my hand, or so help me I'll hex you."

"Hey," Harry retorted. "_Take my hand or I'll hex you_, doesn't fit in very well with the gentle, trusting whatever in Crawlenton's book."

"You said the book was rubbish." Snape reminded him.

"I said I didn't understand it." Harry corrected.

"You will. Take my hand," Snape ordered.

Harry hovered his hand indecisively above the older wizard's expectant palm.

"Sometime today, Potter," Snape said in amusement.

"Okay, okay," the boy said moodily. Who would have thought Snape would be this amused when he wasn't torturing him? Harry thought. Of course this was a bit like torture, Harry reasoned. Taking a deep breath, Harry brought his fingers down to rest lightly on Snape's outstretched hand.

**_Hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are good. Keep 'em coming._**


	21. Of Ordinary Darkness

**Disclaimer**: Alas. They belong to another.

**Authors Notes**: Hey folks. I had a tough time focusing on this one. I guess the end of our school semester had me a bit distracted. Then Christmas was on it's way and... Anyhow, sorry about the delay. I do love your reviews, so please keep them coming. Thanks so much for all of your kind words regarding the last chapter. There were some really thoughtful reviews. Speaking of reviews, the bit in this chapter where Snape tells Harry he is only alive due to dumb luck was inspired by **_fulleree_** in her lovely email. Thanks much. I hope you all had a wonderful holiday.

**excessivelyperky rules! Thanks so much for your hard work and wonderful insight.**

**Enjoy**

**Chapter 21**

**Of Ordinary Darkness**

Thinking about this different method of Occlumency scared the hell out of Harry. He couldn't imagine it being nearly as bad as all those months being knocked on his arse in Snape's dungeon, and being forced to relive his most painful memories. Yet he still felt more than a bit nervous. Harry tried desperately to banish the memory of _Obliviating_ Filch to the far recesses of his mind. He wasn't keen to find out what Snape's reaction might be.

Harry had miraculously avoided real trouble with the Professor regarding the incident at the restaurant, and going after the Horcrux alone. He was disinclined to push his luck again this soon. The boy considered attempting to Occlude his thoughts. He had managed it with Voldemort for a bit when Snape was under the _Cruciatus_, he reasoned. But it didn't make much sense to try to Occlude with Snape wanting to set up an Occlumency pathway like in Crawlenton's book. Harry couldn't quite push the memory of Filch away. And then his thoughts rippled across the surface of that bloody dream where Snape had been worried about Harry turning dark, and had listed every questionable thing he'd done during the school year.

No sooner had Harry's index and middle finger come to rest on Snape's open hand, which lie expectantly on the dining room table, than the boy quickly drew them away again.

"Will it hurt?" Harry asked by way of stalling.

"There may be some discomfort," Snape admitted.

Harry felt the older wizard's eyes on him as the boy once more hovered his hand indecisively above the long pale fingers.

"A lot?" He asked, sounding for all the world like a timid little first year.

"Not for a stalwart Gryffindor such as yourself," the man assured with an impatient sneer. "Come now, Potter," he made a beckoning motion with his hand on the table top. "Stop wasting time."

"You kn-know," the boy stuttered, hiding his hands quickly beneath the table. "The thing is...I think I'd like to...erm... you know... know more... before we begin," Harry admitted, cringing a bit as though he expected to be berated.

"Such as?" Snape drawled, quirking one eyebrow and deliberately placing his own hands under the table as well.

"I dunno," Harry began nervously. "It just seems sort of... I don't know...how many of my memories... I mean for instance...how much are you going to be able to see?" the boy asked inarticulately.

"I can gain full access to your thoughts and memories right _now_ by simply casting a Legillimens." Snape pointed out evenly.

"There is that," Harry acknowledged ruefully.

"In my experience, this method of Occlumency feels less invasive because it is more cooperative." Snape offered, in a measured tone. "It is perhaps ill-named since it is a form of collusion rather than occlusion. An Occlumency pathway is a deep level link that is anchored in the soul of each participant. It will allow you access to my thoughts and memories as well."

"_The soul_?" Harry asked, in mild surprise

"For that reason, dishonesty does not exist within the pathway. It would not be possible for either of us to be deceptive about the nature of a memory while communicating via the link. Once the link is established we will be able to communicate without the use of words so long as we have visual or physical contact," Snape continued in full lecture mode. "Individual memories or memories in a series can be summoned for the purpose of examination as one might with a pensieve. We would both be compelled to call forth a memory or series of memories that is requested by the other. However, the Occlumentor, who has a slightly dominant role in the link, does have the right of refusal for just cause." Snape paused a moment. Harry's mouth had opened rather wide.

"You had this with Dumbledore?" Harry asked. "This soul link?" he was a tad disturbed, but intrigued as well.

Snape nodded in the affirmative and continued. "Though our physical bodies will obviously remain in the here and now, communication will occur in a common area of our mindscape just above the soul and below the band of emotion. It is fundamentally a passageway," Snape pointed out, "but our minds will allow us to envision the space in a form that is mutually pleasing. The pathway is first and foremost an instructional space for the teaching of Occlumency. It allows the Occlumentor to instruct the Occlumenti in the best methods to shield the memories they do not want accessed and to reveal those they do."

"Can you promise me that I won't get in trouble for anything you see in the link?" Harry asked. "You know, anything you might not like?" He was still concerned about the incident with Filch and what Snape said about it being a dark spell. He directed his question to the table top.

"You have more to hide regarding today's criminal activity?" Snape asked in snide amusement, referring to Harry's robbing the restaurant. "Stealing sweaters from the _Woolen Mills_ perhaps, or picking the pockets of tourists?"

"_No_," Harry said, his face coloring slightly at the reminder of the morning's humiliation. "I saw a few tourists on my way back from Hogwarts yesterday morning, but I didn't consider picking any pockets. I thought of transfiguring some shells into money, so I could eat at Robert's restaurant, but I knew they would change back too fast."

"And that would have been different from stealing how?" Snape asked, surprising Harry with his sudden severity.

"Well, I didn't do it," Harry said, frowning defensively.

"And here Albus always thought," Snape began snidely, "that it is to be your purity of heart that will lead to the eventual defeat of the Dark Lord." The older wizard pursed his lips over the word _purity_ as though it were slightly distasteful.

"I never said it was pure," the boy muttered.

"I have always harbored serious doubts." Snape didn't quite sneer. "Dishonesty, stubbornness, cockiness, anger, any of these lead to a certain level of ordinary darkness and negativity."

_You would know about being dark and negative_. Harry thought with sudden bitterness.

"_Bitterness_ as well. And _yes_, I would know." Snape surprised Harry by reading both the feeling and words. "But if we are to succeed, _you_ must guard against such."

"Wha... am I supposed to be perfect then?" the boy demanded.

"Perfection is not required. I am simply pointing out that the Dark Lord revels in ordinary darkness, and he will celebrate in finding so very much of it in your mindscape. As you pointed out, I would know about such things. And since your wands cancel each other out, the final battle will most likely be a battle of the mind."

"You're Legillimizing me right now, aren't you?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Not intentionally," Snape admitted. "I believe that by committing to it aloud, we may have initiated the process of establishing an Occlumency pathway," Snape surmised.

"Wonderful," Harry complained, feeling violated. "I can't read you, though."

"Can you not?" Snape retorted snidely. "Perhaps it is only I who has committed to the process."

Harry stared at the older wizard's eyes, and to his surprise found himself able to see something just beyond them. And to his utter confusion it was _concern_.

"No," Harry said, averting his eyes again. "I can't read you at all."

"You are supposed to defeat that Dark Lord with a power he knows not," Snape warned, as if quoting. "If we find evidence that you make too common a practice of the things he knows all too well, _deceit_ for example," he suggested evenly, "we'll need to correct that, won't we?" The older wizard asked, arching a stern eyebrow.

"You know the whole prophecy don't you?" Harry said, remembering. "It was you who told Voldemort about my parents? I'll get to know about that if I want?" Harry asked, his voice heating up with anger. "You said I'd have access to your memories too. You'd have to show it to me?" It was as though Harry had determined to feel all the feelings Snape had cautioned him to avoid in the shortest span of time possible.

"As I said, the Occlumentor has the right of refusal for just cause. I would be able to refuse if I felt it might harm you to view a memory for example. However, I doubt I would have justification for refusing you access to that memory if you wish to view it," Snape admitted. "I will even allow you to see my own prophecy, if you desire."

"Your prophecy?" the boy asked, in confusion. "You have a..."

"Yes," Snape began snidely. "Mine says I am destined to take a disrespectful, disobedient, dunce of a boy, who only manages to keep from getting himself killed by boneheaded bravado, and transform him so as to remotely resemble someone who can defeat the Dark Lord." Though the words were coarse, Harry could see amusement playing just beyond the older wizard's eyes. For some reason it calmed him. Harry wanted to dare Snape to say boneheaded bravado five times fast.

"Yours says that, does it?" Harry asked, his anger fading significantly, as he quirked an eyebrow in a deliberate imitation of the Potions Master.

"I may be mistaken slightly with some of the wording. But you have the gist." Snape admitted, with something akin to a smirk playing about the corner of his lips.

"Look," Harry said, coming back to his original concern. "Could you just promise me I won't be punished for anything you see and don't like in my mind?"

"No," Snape refused mildly. "I am curious as to what memory concerns you so."

Harry frowned down at the table. "Could you at least promise not to be overly harsh and unreasonable?"

"Am I generally overly harsh and unreasonable?" Snape asked, cocking his head to the side.

"_Yes_," Harry said, as though it were a ridiculous question.

"Well, then no," Snape said without apology. "I probably cannot promise that," he said, placing his palm face up on the table once more.

Harry stared at the hand for a moment before asking. "Is there anything you can promise me?"

"Regarding my reaction to the things I see in your mind?" Snape asked quizzically, as though he had lost the thread of the conversation.

"Yes," Harry said.

"It feels very much like I have already answered that question, Potter," Snape said candidly.

Harry almost laughed. "Why in Merlin's name would I agree to do this?" Harry asked, contemplating the elder wizard's hand.

"Curiosity?" Snape offered helpfully.

It was true. Harry was curious. It would be an opportunity to have some questions answered, questions that had troubled Harry for a very long time. And finally he let his desire to see what was in Snape's mind override his desire to hide what was in his own.

Just as Harry lay his hand face down upon Snape's palm he heard a low rumbling chuckle in his mind.

"**_After all, you have always been far too curious for your own bloody good," the low voice resounded._** **_The amusement was clear, and Harry had the distinct impression he was being teased. How strange to be teased by Snape, he thought. The man's voice was different in his mind as well. More pleasant, Harry thought. He never actually heard Snape's voice with regular Legillimency. _**

"_**Your voice is changed also," Snape opined in the confines of their minds.**_

"_**Is it?" Harry asked. "How so?"**_

"_**It is altogether less irritating, and does not seem to aggravate my patience nearly so much." Snape explained honestly.**_

"_**Gee, thanks," Harry told the man.**_

"_**You are quite welcome, Potter," the man intoned. "Come," he ordered, seeming to lead Harry by the hand.**_

_**Harry allowed himself to be guided. It seemed as if they were diving into the deep blue of the ocean past waves of emotion, wonderfully painful in their intensity. Love and joy so strong that Harry almost felt he would weep with the passion of them. There was loyalty, courage, sadness, loss, and finally pockets of anger and fear hot enough to burn. As they made their way through the emotion they arrived at a place where two pools of translucent light shown brightly on a dais of misty foam. The light to the left had two ropes of magic tethered to it: one of brilliant, luminous gold and a second of fiery orange. They seemed to stretch from the surface of the light, which Harry recognized instinctively as Snape's soul, off into infinity.**_

"_**Anchor your magic there," Snape ordered, pointing to an area in the general vicinity of the two ropes of light.**_

_**He gave no instruction as to how to accomplish this, but Harry focused his energy in the center of his body, much as he had with the Emotion Protection Wards, and let a stream of magic careen down the length of his arm. He watched in awe as a rope of blinding gold, anchored itself deeply into Snape's soul. He turned to ask if he had done all right, only to witness a rope of rich, silvery blue light come forth from Snape and embed itself in his soul. Harry actually felt a slight tug within his chest as it took root. **_

"_**Is the other gold, Dumbledore?" Harry asked, indicting one of the other two lights in Snape's soul.**_

"_**It is," Snape admitted. "The orange is Draco."**_

"_**His is pretty cool," Harry observed. "It looks like the fire of a dragon," the boy decided, surprising himself with the easiness of his voice.**_

"_**It does," Snape agreed, in a tone Harry recognized as pride and love, though he was sure he had never heard the tone from this man before. For some reason it made him feel odd.**_

_**Snape quirked a defensive eyebrow. "Now, I shall of course be interested to view those memories you were so worried about me seeing," Snape continued, changing the subject. "But first you may view any of my memories you wish, to establish the bond."**_

"_**Is that the way it is usually done?" Harry wanted to know. He wondered at this alternate universe he had stumbled into where he suspected Snape of doing something kind.**_

"_**I believe it is common when the Occlumentor and Occlumenti are not related. Albus did allow me the same right. It is a good way of establishing trust since the Occlumentor has more authority in the relationship."**_

_**Snape had said that before. It worried Harry a bit.**_

"_**No need, Potter." Snape explained. "It is not very different from the normal teacher student relationship. My role will be to give instructions and yours will be to follow them."**_

"_**But you said I could ask you stuff too?" Harry said, worried that maybe he had been duped.**_

"_**Also the role of a good student, Potter," Snape opined. "Come," he ordered again, and led Harry to an area just below the waves of emotion they had traveled through. **_

"_**This is the band of emotion?" Harry asked indicating the area just above.**_

"_**Yes," Snape acknowledged. "Now, as I said, we may envision this space however we choose."**_

"_**You said it was an instructional space," Harry said. "Should we just envision a classroom?" **_

"_**If you wish," Snape said. "Draco and I use this form." Snape closed his eyes briefly and the space suddenly transformed into his dungeon. "Would you find this acceptable?" Snape wanted to know.**_

_**Harry looked around. The room held rather a lot of bad memories. Not just of their disastrous Occlumency lessons, but the place held memories of countless detentions and other punishments as well.**_

"_**Well...erm," the boy began, not sure how to phrase his concern.**_

"_**That is true, Potter," Snape interrupted. "The place does hold a great many punitive memories."He admitted, picking up Harry's concerns. "Do you have a preference?"**_

_**Harry concentrated for a moment as Snape had done, and was a bit surprised when he was able to make the room transfigure into McGonagall's classroom. They were immediately assaulted with a familiar image towering over a dark haired boy.**_

"_**How dare you, Mr. Snape!" The image of McGonagall said stridently. "Detention!" The young image of Snape stared back insolently, his dark eyes cold with defiance.**_

"_**I'm afraid this room holds far too many punitive memories as well, Potter," Snape explained banishing the image of McGonagall.**_

"_**What about the Headmaster's office?" Harry wanted to know.**_

"_**That was the place Albus and I chose," Snape admitted. Both wizards concentrated for a moment, and the area around them transfigured into Dumbledore's office.**_

_**Harry looked around pleased. It was complete with Fawkes and all the Headmaster's little gadgets.**_

"_**I like it," he told Snape.**_

_**The older wizard nodded his head in agreement, and seemed to examine the room with a bit of nostalgia.**_

"_**I should like for the portraits of the Heads to act as Muggle photographs however." Snape looked to Harry for agreement.**_

"_**That would be fine," Harry agreed, not interested in any of Phineus Nigellus' snide, when-I-was-Headmaster wisdom. "Can we animate Dumbledore's though?" Harry wanted to know. He indicated the sleeping form of Dumbledore in the portrait frame as it had appeared when last he had seen it.**_

_**After several moments of concentration the portraits of the other Heads were stilled, while Dumbledore pushed himself from the bed and went to sit at a nearby table and chair and poured himself a cup of tea. He sipped it delicately and twinkled at both wizards from above the rim. Snape took a moment, seeming to appreciate the image and then looked around the room as though assessing.**_

"_**Is this all right?" Harry wanted to know.**_

"_**Quite," Snape responded. "I'm just deciding where I would like to sit. "I'm certain I couldn't manage to sit there," he explained, indicating the seat behind the Headmaster's desk.**_

"_**Can I sit there?" Harry asked with a grin.**_

"_**You may not!" Snape said, in stern amusement.**_

"_**I was only joking," Harry said chuckling. **_

"_**I am aware of that, Potter," the older man informed him. "Sit," he ordered indicating one of the chairs at a small round table. **_

"_**Maybe we could just envision the entire castle," Harry suggested as he took a seat. "We could meet wherever was appropriate for the memories we were examining. I'm sure there will be times it will feel right to meet in the dungeon," Harry said, thinking it would be dead appropriate if Snape reacted the way he thought he might regarding the incident with Filch. "Do you want to just see the memories I'm worried about now?" Harry was surprised to find himself asking. He really wanted to get the Filch thing over with. He realized suddenly that he had been carrying around guilt over it all summer.**_

"_**I understand it has something to do with Mr. Filch. Do try to put it out of your mind for now, Potter. And although you should by no means count on this attitude all the time, I will attempt to examine whatever it is with an open mind today."**_

"_**Is that so we can build trust too?" Harry wanted to know.**_

"_**It has more to do with my shock over Albus' rebuke of you regarding the Horcrux," Snape admitted reluctantly. "I knew he was angry when I spoke with him earlier. To discover that his anger was directed at you has unbalanced me somewhat."**_

"**_Wow." Harry said in awe. "It _is_ impossible to be dishonest here."_**

"_**I do believe I said that," Snape reminded dryly. "At any rate, I'm sure I will come back to my senses and enjoy making your life miserable as much as I ever did. But for now, I am inclined to be generous. So, please put your worry about this disturbing memory regarding Filch aside."**_

"_**Okay. Thanks." Harry replied. So unused to reasonableness from Snape, it actually made him want to confess more. He hadn't realized how troubled he had been about what he did to Filch. His greatest fear came from the fact that he might have unwittingly damaged the man's mind. That was mostly what made him not try it on Robert at the restaurant. He knew the Ministry used Obliviation on Muggles often. But Harry didn't know enough about the spell to use it safely. It was just like him using the Sectumsempra on Draco without being sure what the spell would do. Snape had said that was dark magic too. The blond boy would have died if it wasn't for the Professor.**_

"_**Potter," the man said with a frustrated sigh "You are no doubt aware that you are transmitting all these thoughts and concerns as you think them?"**_

_**Harry was and he wasn't. He looked at the Potions Master a bit helplessly. **_

"_**This will be my biggest instructional challenge I fear. It was clear with the other method of Occlumency as well. You will need to learn to govern your emotions, Potter."**_

"_**Yes, sir," Harry swallowed.**_

"_**I am given to understand that this disturbing memory has to do with your use of Obliviation on Mr. Filch. We will no doubt have to deal with this with some severity. But for now, as I said you may view any of my memories you wish."**_

_**888**_

_**Snape was interested to note that his decree that the boy would be dealt with severely was met with relief from Potter rather than anger. He thought the boy might make up for it by choosing some horrendously painful memory to view. Potter surprised him again.**_

"_**May I see the day that picture on the mantel was taken?" The boy asked. "The one on the beach with you in the green sweater?" Snape marveled at how polite the boy's voice sounded in his mind. Where was the arrogance and rudeness that Potter normally expressed himself with? Snape knew this area of the mindscape allowed people to be seen in their true form, and not be colored by the other's perceptions. Still it was strange to hear Potter sounding so courteous, Snape thought, as he called forth the memory the boy had requested.**_

Fifteen year old Severus Snape woke to the sound of Phoenix song.

"Good morning, Fawkes," the lank young man said, stretching long arms as he pushed himself up on the bed. It was a stunning summer day, and the sun shown brilliantly through his bedroom window of the beach house. Severus had only arrived last evening, and he took a moment to enjoy the fact that he was finally in Glenbeigh, and his real summer holiday could begin. The bird trilled more insistently to indicate the parcels at the foot of the boy's bed. Severus hitched his breath and caught his bottom lip between two teeth when he noticed the Hogwart's seal on the topmost letter. He read through the results of his OWLs twice, and ran his finger gently along the edge of the parchment where an O was marked for every single subject. With difficulty he lay the parchment aside and read a note that lay on top of a small bundle.

_For my dearest Severus, _

_with love and pride._

_Albus_

Severus took a moment to run his finger fondly over the words _love and pride, _much as he had the O's on his OWL results. His long dark lashes were a bit damp when the boy finally put the note aside and turned to open the parcel. It was a dark green sweater that he had admired in the store window of the _Woolen Mills_ in town. He smiled pushing himself off the bed. Severus made his way to the toilet and dressed for the day in jeans and his new sweater. Albus was drinking tea when he arrived at the dining room table and Fawkes was perched on the old man's shoulder trilling softly.

"Did you finally manage to awaken our sleepy Severus, Fawkes?" The Headmaster addressed himself to the bird. "Well done," he told the Phoenix, offering it the edge of a biscuit. "I was wondering if you were ever going to get up," the Headmaster said to Severus over the brim of his cup. "It is well past noon." An indication that the boy thought he might be being gently chastised was evident from the slight coloring of his cheeks and ears.

"The sweater is lovely, Albus. Thank you." The boy said running a hand delicately along one sleeve.

"You are quite welcome, child," Albus said affectionately. "Shall we go out to lunch to celebrate what a brilliant young wizard you are?" Albus suggested. "Merlin knows it is far too late for breakfast."

"I'd like that," Severus said, his cheeks coloring more deeply.

"Training begins tomorrow, and we have a scant two weeks," the Headmaster said, as he moved to pull on a cream colored sweater. "I'll expect you to get yourself up at a reasonable hour," Albus admonished. He tousled the younger wizard's dark hair, and gave his ear a playful tug.

A playful pull of the ear was actually a sort of gentle warning from the Headmaster that his words were serious. Severus had learned from years of experience to heed such subtle admonitions.

"Yes sir," Severus nodded in agreement. Two weeks training on the beach with Albus was by far a better summer vacation than he'd had his whole two months at Spinners End.

The Headmaster took a camera and cajoled a shy young Severus to pose for a few pictures along the beach as they made their way to the town's only restaurant.

Once there, Severus chatted easily with Robert, the son of the restaurant owner, who was about Severus' age and every bit as thin. They discussed school. Severus had learned to make the topic Muggle safe while still conveying the major points through years of practice with his father. The man always insisted on knowing how Severus was doing in school, but the boy was forbidden to mention magic. Discussing school with Robert was always much more enjoyable, because Severus could be more honest.

He could talk about what a bitch he thought McGonagall was, so long as he was well out of earshot of Albus. He was free to complain about the band of bullies who always picked on him, and grumble about how Albus never took his side. This was allowed in Albus' hearing so long as he didn't use foul language.

Careful not to give too many details, Severus told Robert about the boys pulling an extremely cruel prank on him one day after final examinations that had humiliated him in front of the entire school.

"When I complained to the Headmaster," Severus explained to Robert, "he said it was just a silly prank and I should put it out of my mind. Then I called the boys a lot of foul names and I wound up getting punished." Severus admitted.

"You'll get 'em next time, eh Severus? You always do," Robert chuckled.

"I will that," Severus grinned, sticking a fat spoon into the steaming bowl of mashed potatoes, vegetables and meat.

Meanwhile, Albus bragged to Liam, Robert's father, about Severus' school results. Severus tried not to hear the glowing remarks, which made his cheeks grow red over his shepherd's pie. Liam was was a good sport about Albus' bragging, and shared a few stories about Robert as well, until the boy was begging.

"Da, please stop!"

"All right, Robert. All right," Liam laughed soothingly.

"It's like we're not even here," Robert complained in a low voice to Severus. The dark haired boy chuckled in agreement as he spooned in a mouthful of crispy mashed potatoes.

"Still we wouldn't expect anything less, would we shy Severus?" Liam addressed himself to the dark haired boy. "Not with you being the Headmaster's boy eh?"

"Yes, sir," Severus agreed. The boy always enjoyed being referred to as Albus' son. He was glad Albus hadn't done more to disabuse Liam of the erroneous notion several years ago. Liam was right about one thing though. Albus may have been okay with an E or two on his OWLs, but if the boy had gotten any A's the older wizard's reaction would have been very different. Severus was glad he hadn't let Albus down. And he could certainly stand a bit of bragging if it made Albus happy, the boy thought, as he dug into the rich meaty gravy of his shepherd's pie.

888

_**The memory was a lot for Harry to process. "You and Robert have known each other for a while," the boy observed, after a few moments contemplation. "That was a nice memory. Thanks for showing it to me."**_

"_**You are quite welcome, Potter." Snape replied in a mild tone. "Do you wish to view additional memories?" **_

"_**Does Voldemort know about this place?" The boy asked instead of answering.**_

"_**I am certain he does. He would have had to travel to this place within himself to create his Horcruxes." Snape explained. "However, he undervalues it for the purposes of Legillimency and Occlumency. He would not travel through the band of emotion in another for fear the positive emotions might undo him. That is why Albus and I had always believed our link here safe."**_

"_**He seemed to be interested in positive emotions when he was cursing you."**_

"_**That was a trap. He was hoping to play on your concern and lure you to come for me as you had Draco." Snape explained in a matter of fact tone. "Do you wish to see another memory?" he asked the boy again.**_

"_**I don't think so," Harry responded in a measured tone. "I can ask you to show me others later, right?" The boy checked again to be sure of the rules.**_

"_**You may." Snape affirmed.**_

"_**Where is Fawkes?" The boy asked suddenly, thinking Snape must have the bird. He had sent Harry two Howlers via the Phoenix, when he feared the boy might attend the Weasley wedding.**_

"_**He is in Albus' office," Snape told him.**_

"_**At Hogwarts?" the boy asked in apparent confusion.**_

"_**At the beach house, Snape explained. "In Albus' old room at the end of the Hall, there is an adjoining office. Fawkes is there." Snape explained. "You have reminded me. I should check on him."**_

_**The boy nodded his head. And then sighed in a resigned way.**_

"_**Should I show you the memory with Filch now?" Harry asked.**_

_**At Snape's nod of assent, the boy swallowed hard and the room suddenly turned into Snape's dungeon.**_

_**888**_

_**Snape quirked an admonishing eyebrow. And the boy looked embarrassed. He could tell that Potter had not intentionally focused to change the form of the pathway. It was a matter of emotional control and focus. The form of the pathway shouldn't just change because the boy grew nervous. They would most definitely need to work on the boy's control. **_

_**Snape viewed the memory of Filch and the dream connected to it from start to finish twice without comment. Though he did give the boy a hard look regarding his menacing attitude when he had the man under the Petrificus Totalus. He had toed the man with his boot, and threatened the Caretaker. Potter seemed to drink in the man's fear until Granger made the boy stop. Potter seemed positively appalled to have Snape witness the scene. Voldemort would have a field day with such memories. **_

_**Still, the fact that the boy seemed disturbed by the memory was encouraging. And the fact that he had dreamt about being punished showed that he understood the darkness of his actions on some level. **_

_**Snape showed Harry how to shield the memory from ordinary Legillimency and made him practice several times. He then had Harry show him the technique he had used to Occlude earlier, and gave him several exercises to do on his own that would enhance the effectiveness of the method. **_

After breaking the link the two sat in silence at the dining room table and consumed a lunch of cold rashers and tomato sandwiches. Harry seemed accepting although apprehensive of any consequence Snape might met out. Snape for his part was uncharacteristically concerned about how to best deal with the boy. He wanted Potter to understand why _Obliviation_ might be considered a dark spell, and why ordinary darkness, such as the menace he had shown Filch would impede his success against the Dark Lord. Punishing Potter was so much simpler when he only wanted the boy to feel his wrath. Snape decided a punishment essay might be most effective. He forced his voice to a threatening level of severity.

"You are to compose an essay five feet in length," Snape explained, managing a low dangerous tone, while banishing the lunch dishes. "I expect you to illustrate what _Obliviation_ has in common with the three Unforgivable curses. Further you will examine the memory we viewed this morning and list which of your actions might hinder your eventual success with the Dark Lord and why." Snape paused for a moment while the boy digested the instructions.

"Yes, sir," the boy quietly acknowledged his understanding, and Snape continued.

"If you have not completed the essay by dinner time tonight, do not bother to leave your room," Snape instructed. The boy's eyes lit with a bit of anger at the last instruction, and Snape momentarily felt a bit of his old pleasure at punishing the boy. "You have five minutes to peruse the shelves of the house for any books you think might be helpful, then you are to go to your room and remain there until you have completed your task. Go." Snape ordered harshly.

The pleasure at punishing Potter disappeared as quickly as it came with the boy's response.

"Yes, sir," Harry said in a stiff voice, as he got up and straightened his chair. But as opposed to the brief flash of anger, the feelings Snape picked up from the boy were hurt and betrayal. As he watched Potter head towards the library at the rear of the house, Severus wondered briefly why he had ever enjoyed punishing Potter so much.

_**Hope you enjoyed it! Please don't forget to review.**_


	22. The Best Laid Plans

**Disclaimer: **Not mine. I wish they were.

**Authors Notes: **Thanks for your reviews. I am not considering jumping ship for those of you who are worried. Sometimes the writing happens easier. Thanks for your patience. Of Ordinary Darkness, the book, was inspired by the film, What_ the Bleep Do We Know? _

**excessivelyperky **is way cool. Thanks for doing what you do.

**Enjoy**

**Chapter 22**

**The Best Laid Plans**

The library was a room Harry had been anxious to explore, so he lamented the fact that he wouldn't be given much of an opportunity today. Comfortable, plush seating hugged a series of rounded windows that overlooked the ocean and wrapped themselves around the room. The windows and seating were interrupted every meter or so by pillars of books that wrapped around the room as well and stretched to the ceiling. In the center of the room was a circle of overstuffed chairs and love seats that surrounded a hearth built into the floor.

The books were in alphabetical order, and Harry looked irritably at the spines of the D's. He thought something on defense or dark magic might help him with essay that Snape had assigned as punishment for Obliviating Filch, and apparently behaving like a dark wizard in training. Mindful that he'd been given only five minutes to search the stacks, Harry angrily grabbed two books with interesting titles. After a very quick perusal, he decided they might be worth a try. One appeared to be devoted entirely to Unforgivables.

Harry stalked over to the O's and checked for books on Obliviation. To his surprise he found a book called, Of Ordinary Darkness. Dislodging the book roughly, he realized he should look in the M's for memory charms. After a hasty scan of the shelves, he found one of those and also a book on mind magic. He was relieved he didn't come across anything by Lockhart. Harry glanced fleetingly at the library door, almost expecting Snape to come in and admonish that his time was up.

Not seeing the older wizard when he left the well lit room, Harry decided there was still time to glance at the vast collection of books in the little potions library just off the lab as well. When he didn't find anything to fit his subject, he grabbed A Healers Guide to Medicinal Magic. Harry had used the book to make the organ mender potion. He thought he may as well take advantage of the fact that he'd been given permission to borrow books as an opportunity to take a loan of one he was interested in any way.

Harry made his way back to his bedroom with the small pile of books he had been able to collect in the allotted time. Snape was no longer at the dining room table. Harry took a moment to stare in petulant anger at the older wizard's closed bedroom door before entering his own room to deposit the pile of books on his bed with an irate bounce. Several books fell onto the floor, and Harry gave one a frustrated kick before he thought better of it. The young man began to pace back and forth across the room with short jerky strides.

He wasn't upset about the essay, Harry thought reasonably. And if it had only been that, he would think that for the for the second time in as many days he had gotten off far lighter than he had expected to with the Potions Master. Snape hadn't bothered to berate him or call him names, which usually seemed to be the man's favorite part of punishing anyone. The discussion about darkness had even been interesting, and the young man was curious about how the heck Snape thought he was going to _A. K_. Voldemort without becoming a bit dark. He wanted to understand Snape's opinion about Obliviation, and really didn't mind spending a little time reading and writing about it.

What did bother Harry was Snape's declaration that he was confined to his room. And the announcement that he wouldn't be given dinner if he didn't complete his work on time was startlingly like Aunt Petunia. On top of the hidings, or whatever cruelty Vernon meted out for offenses like breathing and existing, Petunia Dursley had always taken obscene pleasure in starving Harry for days on end.

Harry wondered vaguely why Snape had bothered to let him eat lunch if he meant starvation to be part of the punishment. It felt sickeningly like betrayal after the intimacy of the Occlumency pathway. Harry felt the link in his soul spasm painfully when Snape had told him to remain in his room and not bother leaving if he had not completed the essay by dinner time. He had felt violated and hurt, which was exceedingly odd as he had never felt enough loyalty from Snape to make betrayal and issue.

Snape had spent countless years calling the young man every synonym for stupid imaginable, yet feeling hurt had never entered Harry's mind. Harry had thought his days of being starved and locked up were over. Well, he just wouldn't bloody put up with it, the young man decided. He would do the essay, but he wasn't some weak little first year Snape could bully. Harry would be of age in two short weeks. He would be seventeen and a full grown wizard. Who the hell did Snape think he was? Harry would tell him to sod off. _I'll stand up to the mean git if he tries to lock my bedroom door_, Harry thought defiantly. He wasn't afraid of Snape. Well, he was, actually, but Harry would fight back. He'd...he'd...

"Bloody buggering hell," he heard Snape curse in loud fury from down the hall. "I'll ring your scrawny neck when I get my hands on you!" He'd tell Dumbledore perhaps, Harry thought anxiously, as angry foot falls pounded down the hall toward his room. Harry scrambled to pick up the books from the floor, as though his mistreatment of them might have caused Snape's anger. He put all but one on the bed and dived toward the desk in the corner. Harry wrestled the volume open as his bum slapped into the wooden chair. He sat straight in an attempt to look studious.

Fawkes arrived just a moment before Snape. The bird came to perch on the untidy pile of books and settle his wings haughtily just as the older wizard skidded to an angry stop in front of Harry's bedroom door. The phoenix let out what could only be characterized as an enraged screech.

There was trickle of blood running from Snape's left earlobe. His hair looked as though he had been out in a wind storm, and the man's face was flushed bright pink.

Harry put the book down as his mouth fell open. Before he could think better of it, he began to laugh. "Are you all right, Professor?" The teenager inquired between hicuppy chuckles.

"Stupid bird," Snape muttered, as he touched his earlobe gingerly and winced in pain.

Fawkes flapped his wings a bit, causing Snape to take a step backwards and Harry to let out a full on guffaw. The older wizard shot an angry scowl in the young man's direction, causing Harry to laugh all the harder.

Snape squared his shoulders deliberately and glared down his impressive nose. "This needs to be delivered," Snape explained, arching an eyebrow and proffering a scroll of parchment in Fawkes direction. The phoenix took the scroll disdainfully and disappeared in a flash of light "Fawkes was a bit upset to be warded in Albus' room so long. He usually has the run of the house, when he is here." Snape informed Harry in a dark tone as the boy attempted to subdue his laughter.

"Oh," Harry replied, clearing his throat purposefully but not trusting himself to say more.

Fawkes reappeared in another spectacular flash. He dropped a scroll in Snape's hand and returned to perching on top of the books on Harry's bed. Snape took a moment to unfurl the parchment and scan the reply.

"I have several errands I need to attend to, Potter," Snape informed the boy disdainfully, as he slid the parchment into the pocket of his robe. "You have your instructions. I will return in a few hours time.

"Okay," Harry nodded, biting his lip. His anger had given away to mirth for the moment. Snape's comically mussed hair was more than the younger wizard could bear in silence. It looked as though Fawkes had spent several minutes batting the Professor upside the head with his powerful wings.

"The house is equipped with a visitor alarm," Snape continued. If you hear this sound, it means the visitor is a Muggle." Snape raised his wand and Harry heard a Muggle doorbell. "You need only say _Muggleproof_, and the house will obscure anything that Muggles would find disconcerting.

"Cool," Harry opined.

"On the off chance that a wizard should visit, you will hear this sound." Snape raised his wand again, and at the sound of the shrill alarm whistle, Harry covered his ears.

"Yow!" Harry complained, as he stuck an index finger in each ear to try block out the noise.

"If you hear that sound, you are to touch this image." Snape indicated a collage of what appeared to be Muggle photos of scenic views in a frame that adorned the wall. Harry realized with a start the photo Snape pointed to was Hogsmeade. "Simply rubbing your thumb across the image will do," Snape continued. "You will be transported to Hogsmeade. Hide in the Shrieking Shack. If you don't hear from me in twenty four hours, use the passageway to return to Hogwarts. Find Minerva and tell her your woeful tale. She'll probably threaten to hex you a few times before she buys it completely," Snape added snarkily.

"What if it's a friendly wizard visiting?" Harry wanted to know.

"No one is supposed to know we are here, so it would no doubt be a Death Eater, you dunderhead." Snape pointed out irritably. "Please attend to these instructions with more than your normal level of obedience. If we are discovered, there is little doubt someone will be sent here to bring you to the Dark Lord. If they fail, and I discover you have been playing the idiotic little hero," Snape threatened, "I will tie a bow around your disobedient neck and deliver you myself."

"All right," Harry agreed with a frown, his anger returning.

"I'm sure you needn't worry, however." Snape continued after a breath in a milder tone. "I don't expect any of the Dark Lord's followers to stop by, else I wouldn't go. I shall return shortly. Do you think you can manage to behave until I get back?" Snape asked snidely.

"Yes," Harry replied stiffly.

"As for the door to your room," Snape began indicating Harry's bedroom door.

_Here it comes, Harry thought. He's going to lock me in. Bastard. Just like Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. _

"What about it?" Harry asked, trying to sound belligerent, but he realized he sounded a bit plaintive instead.

"You might want to keep it open," Snape advised. "So Fawkes can fly in and out as he pleases." Snape explained. Fawkes had already calmed down significantly, and he was trilling contentedly from atop the pile of books.

"Keep my door open?" Harry said uncertainly. "You want me to keep it open?" _That was certainly different than being locked in_. "Well sure. I mean... No problem." Harry agreed, with relieved confusion.

"It might put him in a better mood," Snape suggested ruefully as he touched his throbbing earlobe. The phoenix took flight and landed on the older wizard's shoulder causing him to tense slightly. A single tear healed the wound and Snape uttered a quiet thanks. As Fawkes stretched to return to her book top perch, one strong wing smacked Snape soundly along side the head. This caused Harry to laugh again. The man fixed both the boy and bird with murderous glares. The Potions Master raked his long fingers through his hair several times as he swept from the room.

As Harry heard the front door click shut, he took a moment to ponder whether Snape had intended to lock him and had just decided against it because of Fawkes. The young man had been certain he was in for a repeat of the worst of Privet Drive. Harry _hadn't_ imagined it, Snape had made the comment about remaining in his room till he was done. It figured that someone like Snape would think starvation was a reasonable punishment. It was what Harry despised his Aunt Petunia for most of all. There would be endless days with maybe a bit of juice or water...

Harry realized abruptly that he was overreacting. That was _not_ what Snape had said. The man had not locked him in and he had mentioned one meal _if_ Harry didn't finish his essay. Even if he did miss dinner, it was actually nothing like the Dursley's, who would give Harry an insurmountable list of meaningless chores, and then punish him when he failed to complete them. Suddenly feeling a little stupid for his earlier panic, Harry realized if he spent a bit less whining, and more time working, he could probably finish the essay. Ruefully, he went to his trunk to retrieve parchment, ink, and a quill.

It was Of Ordinary Darkness Harry managed to grab in his earlier haste to avoid the irate swearing Snape barreling down the hall. Harry decided the book was extremely interesting as he read and made a few notations. It discussed light and dark behavior and how a wizard's attitude opened up magical receptors in the body. Individual acts of cruelty or laziness when repeated over and over built up and took root in the receptors and contributed to ones magical make up. Harry wondered what Snape's magical receptors must look like after so many years of cruelty to his students and others.

As Harry read on, the book explained that focusing on and being judgmental or jealous of the magical properties of others was perhaps the most damaging, yet common practice of all. It created a sort of gray magic, the book said. It allowed magical growth to stagnate, producing a weak wizard, who would not reach their full magical potential, and were susceptible to ordinary and severe darkness. The vast majority of magical people, the book explained, experienced only one small push of magical growth after coming of age and then progress came to a halt.

The only way for growth to continue to take place, the text argued was to actively focus on the type of witch or wizard one wanted to become. Ordinary darkness could be replaced by bombarding the receptors with the opposite intention. Cruelty could be replaced by kindness with conscious effort, the book said. Harry thought about how lazy he used to be about school work, and how easily it came now after putting in a bit of effort. By the same token the book said, dark magic could be strengthened and enhanced by cognizant effort to do so.

Unwillingly, Harry's thoughts again turned to Snape. Attempting not to judge, he wondered what type of wizard Snape had wanted to become. Dumbledore had trained him, according to Snape. Harry wondered what kind of training the young Snape had received and what sort of wizard had the Headmaster wanted him to become? Snape certainly wasn't a light wizard. Yet he wasn't completely dark either. The man seemed to be something in between, but he was the furthest thing from a weak willed gray wizard Harry had ever seen. Snape exuded power. But it wasn't that sort of evil, oily power of Voldemort or Lucius Malfoy. It was true the man could be unwavering cruel, and scathingly caustic, but Harry couldn't picture Snape holding anyone under a _Crucio_ and enjoying it. Nor was Snape's magic the genial, easy going confidence of the Headmaster's.

Harry thought about the picture of the kid in the green jumper on the mantel, and the memory Snape had shown him earlier. Harry had commented that it was a nice memory, and it was. But it was almost surreal. How did the sensitive kid in the memory, who had Dumbledore bragging about his OWL results grow up to be Snape? In fact how could the image that Harry saw in the pensieve of fifteen year old Snape being tormented by the Marauders be the same kid who shyly sat and ate shepherds pie in the memory. Harry had no doubt the story Snape told Robert about the cruel prank the bullies played, was the same he'd seen in the pensieve. The awful image was burned in Harry's mind.

"Who wants to see me take Snivelly's pants off?" James Potter had asked with a hateful sneer. Harry could still hear the words.

Snape had told Robert in the memory that _he'd_ been punished by the Headmaster because he had complained and used foul language. Who wouldn't use foul language after being treated that way?

It was difficult to picture the brooding fifteen year old Snape who was tormented by the Marauders being the same fifteen year old Snape in the green jumper. It was equally difficult for Harry to imagine the Headmaster punishing Snape for complaining about such a prank. In the memory the Headmaster had behaved so loving and kind to young Snape. It was all very confusing. It must have been really confusing to Snape to have the Headmaster be so hard on him at school and then act like he cared for him in the summer. It was almost the opposite of Harry's own relationship with the Headmaster, the young man realized with a jolt. During the school year, the Headmaster behaved as though he cared for Harry, yet every summer he made him go back the hell that was Privet Drive.

Shaking away these thoughts, Harry took up his quill and dipped it in the ink. He began to write about he ways _Obliviation_ was similar to the Unforgivables. Not making use of any of the books on the bed at present, Harry could come up with several ways it was similar to the _Imperious_. Both spells tampered with ones mind and interfered with ones ability to act upon their own free will. With the _Imperious_, one could be made to carry out the wishes of another, and with _Obliviation_ one could be made to forget what their own desires were.

The young man continued in this vein for a while and then discussed how all four spells could be used together. One could be placed under the _Imperious_ and be forced to use a Killing Curse or the _Cruciatus_, and then could be made to forget it ever happened with _Obliviation_. Thinking about the information he had read in Of Ordinary Darkness, Harry wondered what effect that would have on the person's magical receptors. One could be turned into a dark wizard against their will and essentially without their knowledge. Harry found the thought sobering as he put it down on paper.

Harry wondered briefly if Snape had used any of these curses. He must have done at some point, the young man realized. Well, who was Snape to judge him then? Harry thought defensively. The young man stopped himself before he went too far down that path. Snape probably wasn't judging him, Harry forced himself to admit. He had been discussing Harry's role in bringing down Voldemort, and he was apparently trying to make him aware of what he needed to do to succeed.

Snape had joked about there being a prophecy about him too. Harry wondered if that were true. Had Snape's prophecy said he must become a dark wizard to fulfill his obligations? Perhaps that's what Dumbledore's training had been about. That was almost too bizarre to contemplate. The greatest light wizard in the wizarding world teaching dark magic. _I could find out via the Occlumency pathway_, he reasoned

He considered for a moment how different Snape had seemed in his mind. The feeling of the pathway was unlike anything Harry had ever experienced. It was not as though upon entering Snape's mind Harry had suddenly discovered all the man's cruel snideness was an act, but the intimacy of the link did unearth a certain humanity Harry had not recognized before. Harry wasn't sure what Snape had felt from his end, but the moment the older wizard's magic anchored in Harry's soul, he felt connected in a way he had never experienced before. Harry could feel link even now, strangely reassuring in its strong presence.

Harry had immediately realized that the Occlumency pathway was an excellent way for him to learn how to shield his thoughts. Snape had been able to demonstrate from inside his mind, and it was a bit like learning defensive shields and blocks. It was much easier for Harry to understand than vague admonitions to clear his mind. There were apparently different types of blocks depending on the type of memory. And there were ways to leave false trails so the person performing Legillimency thought they were seeing more than they were. After one lesson the young man found himself wanting to learn more. Harry found himself wishing that Snape had been able to use this method from the beginning. Although he understood why he had not, and was a bit curious about what had enabled them to establish the Occlumency pathway now, given the intimacy the process required.

888

Snape Apparated directly from the spot between the cliffs to the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade. He took a moment to place the hairs he had _Accio_'ed from Potter's head into the vial of polyjuice potion, before he downed the foul tasting liquid. It had been simple enough to pluck the wiry strands from the boy's scalp as he had plugged his ears to block out the noise from the wizard alarm spell placed on the beach house. Severus took a moment after his transformation into Potter was complete to transfigure his clothing smaller. He had thought to wear a Muggle T-shirt and jeans as Potter often did, and he had donned one of his more nondescript robes.

As he climbed up through the passage to the Whomping Willow, Snape found himself a bit nervous about facing McGonagall. He had confidence in his ability to make her believe he was Potter. Sending the request for a meeting by Fawkes ensured that she would believe the request authentic. But Severus had always been a bit afraid of Minerva McGonagall. It had been that way since he was a student, and she was apt descend upon him like a pack of angry hornets for his brilliantly clever retaliation pranks on her precious Marauders.

Although his relationship with his colleague in years hence had grown into an affectionate respect and he counted her as a friend, he was terrified to speak to her now. He had not done so since the Headmaster's death. She'd never be able to forgive him, he knew. Even with Albus' explanation via the Angelth, she would never be able to forgive Severus for following those particular orders. It was best at present, he decided, to have her think he was Potter. Though Albus had pointed out, and rightly so, he'd have to face her eventually.

Albus had been pleased when Severus had spoken to him earlier regarding establishing an Occlumency pathway with Potter. He didn't bother to scold him as he had done in the past by saying Severus should have done so sooner. The Headmaster had also been in agreement with Severus' plans regarding speaking to McGonagall, Malfoy and Dobby.

Snape brushed off his knees and squared shoulders that felt too thin, as he made his way across the castle grounds. His steps faltered slightly as he came upon Albus' tomb. But he steadied his breathing as his hand went instinctively towards the Angelth at his neck. He continued on to the castle doors, where McGonagall stood to greet him.

"Headmistress," he remembered to call her, and a smile lit his boyish features. He realized he was happy to see his old friend, and was suddenly gripped by an overwhelming desire to confess. Then he was seized by the fear of her reaction, and had to fight away an image of the formidable witch boxing his ears.

"Harry," she greeted kindly. "It is so good to see you."

"How are the Weasleys?" Snape knew he would be expected to ask, but found himself wanting to know as well how the band of redheads fared after the death of one of there number.

"As well as can be expected," she intoned sadly, as she gave the password to the gargoyles and led the way up to her office. "The funeral is tomorrow at the Burrow. Ten in the morning. I don't suppose you could come..."

"I can't. I don't think," Snape admitted as they made their way into her office. He bit his lip as she turned to look at him. "I'll ask," he promised quietly.

"Who is this person the Headmaster chose to train you, Harry?" McGonagall asked in honest curiosity. "Is it someone you trust?" She asked waving the younger wizard into a chair.

"It's someone the Headmaster trusts, ma'am." It had been years since Snape had been obliged to address her thus, but somehow it still felt comfortable. "And it's someone you have trusted in the past," he couldn't stop himself from adding.

She nodded her head slowly, making Snape think she was weighing her response. He thought about adding that he trusted him too, but that wouldn't come off well if she worked out that he wasn't Potter.

"I wanted to talk to you about the coming school year. I won't be attending classes. But I will be studying my regular course work in addition to my other training and would like to sit for my NEWTs in the spring."

"Of course, Harry," McGonagall smiled, seemingly pleased.

"Additionally, I'd like to teach a Saturday morning class in Advanced Defense to all the old D.A. members and anyone else who wants to participate. I'd like to talk to Malfoy about doing the same with the Slytherins. Doing away with Voldemort is going to be one thing, but getting around his followers is going to be something else again. We'll need an army for that. He will expect the Order and the Ministry, but I think we can catch him off guard with a band of well trained students as well. And if Malfoy picks his Slytherins carefully, we might have a group of fighters he thinks are on his side but really aren't." Snape explained.

"I hate to risk the students," she said after a moments thought.

"They are at risk at any rate," Snape said a touch snidely before he caught himself. "Ma'am," he added to try to cover his lapse.

"If only I could be sure what Albus would want," McGonagall complained with a painful sigh.

"These are his wishes, ma'am," Snape insisted, sounding like Potter again.

"How can you be this certain, Harry?" she asked holding his gaze.

Snape looked down and thoughtfully fingered the Angelth. Albus had given him permission to share it with her if he thought it would help. Severus felt certain he could convince her without Albus' help, but there was a pain in her expression that he thought might ease slightly, if she knew the Headmaster was not completely gone.

He thumbed the clasp open.

"Hello, my boy," the Headmaster greeted warmly. "How did your meeting with Minerva go?"

"I'm actually still with her Headmaster," Severus explained taking in McGonagall's tearfully surprised expression. "I wonder if you could assure her that she can trust me to know your wishes."

"Of course, my boy. Of course." Snape turned the locket toward McGonagall. "Hello, Minerva," the Headmaster quipped as the witch put a hand to her mouth and the tears flowed freely down her old face. "I am sorry for all the pain you are experiencing, my dear," the older wizard intoned kindly. "You may trust that I am making my wishes known and indeed revising them as the need arises."

When it seemed he would say no more, Severus flipped the Angelth toward himself and, with a quiet thanks, closed it.

"That is a bit more than a portrait," McGonagall observed after a moment.

"Yes," Snape admitted.

"Are there two of them?" She asked.

"There are," Snape affirmed again.

"And this teacher the Headmaster trust so much," she began, "he wears one of them?"

"Yes ma'am," Snape agreed, looking her in the eye.

"You may start your Advanced Defense lessons the first Saturday after school begins," she told him. "Remus will be teaching the regular class. You may wish to coordinate with him."

"What I plan to teach is going to be above and beyond the regular syllabus," Snape explained.

"Killing curses?" she inquired, suddenly strident. "Unforgivables?" she asked with and accusatory lilt.

"No ma'am!" Severus assured her, backing up a bit.

McGonagall seemed to take a moment to collect her thoughts. "You will find young Mr. Malfoy down in the Slytherin dormitory. The password is Dragon's Lair," she informed the younger wizard.

Snape curled his lip slightly. Understanding himself to be dismissed he got up and headed for the door.

"Severus," McGonagall said stopping the younger wizard dead in his tracks. "Will it be you or Harry who teaches the class?"

Severus considered asking what she was on about, but at her hard look, decided against it.

"The boy will come and teach his friends what he has studied during the week," Snape explained, as though he feared he might recieve dentention.

"I do understand that you must have been following Albus' orders, to do what you did, " she stated in a slightly shaky voice. "But you need to understand it will be quite sometime before I can forgive you."

The younger wizard nodded his head and swallowed hard in understanding. He turned to face the door.

"However," she began again not unkindly. "Do take care of yourself, and take care of Harry," she requested, her voice breaking slightly.

"I will, Minerva," he promised and quit the room. _One day I'll learn not to underestimate that old girl._ Severus thought ruefully, as he made his way down to the dungeon.

Upon arriving in the Slytherin boy's dormitory, Snape knocked once on Draco's door. The boy was sprawled out reading on a center bed when he entered.

"Potter?" Draco questioned with a partial sneer. But upon holding eye contact, he recognized Snape from their Occlumency pathway. "Professor," Malfoy chirped, jumping out of bed, and bouncing happily on his bare feet.

Snape gave the young man an affectionate look, and then narrowed his eyes. He began to move them critically around the room. There were empty butterbeer bottles, sweets wrappers and books littering the floor and four beds. Dirty plates with the remnants of chips and encrusted eggs sat near a shoe, a sock, and a pair of underpants on Goyle's four poster. Bedclothes and wizard solitaire cards were strewn about.

"Are you the only one living here?" Snape inquired darkly.

"Yes," Draco admitted and was about to apologize for the mess.

"Clean up this room immediately!" Snape roared in his best Head of House voice. It felt good to yell at one of his Slytherins, after feeling like such as schoolboy with McGonagall.

While Malfoy scrambled to obey, Snape told him of his plan.

"Do you think you can gather a small core group of students who can pretend loyalty to the Dark Lord and then be willing to fight against him?" He asked the blond boy.

"I think I can, sir," the young man said confidently. "The easiest way will be to get those who have already hinted they oppose the Dark Lord and get them to pretend they are loyal to him."

Snape always admired how quickly Draco's mind worked. "Well done. Now, you will be learning from Potter along with his club friends on Saturdays," Snape raised a warning eyebrow when the blond boy started to frown, and Draco quickly altered his expression. "Then you will teach the skills to the Slytherins throughout the week. You might want to take them in small groups or one at a time, so as not to arouse too much suspicion from the rest of the house."

"Good idea, sir," Draco acknowledged. " That way I can just pretend I'm tutoring them in another subject. We should train together sometimes though."

"We may have to work out some details as we go along," Snape agreed. "I will be in touch Draco," He said, preparing to go. Severus paused to give the boy a close looking over. "I am very proud of the choice you made," he told the young man. "Do help McGonagall in any way you can," he instructed.

"I will, sir," Draco promised.

"And don't let me ever find this dorm room in that state again," Snape said sternly, and soundly cuffed the back of the blond boy's head.

"You won't," Draco agreed embarrassed. "See you soon, sir."

"As soon as I can manage," Snape told him, giving the young man's shoulder a squeeze.

**_I hope you enjoyed it. Please don't forget to review._**


	23. Battle Scars

**Disclaimer: **Don't I wish. J.K.owns 'em.

**Authors Notes: **Thanks for your continued support. I love reading what you folks have to say.

**excessivelyperky rocks! **Thanks so much for your edits and insight.

**Enjoy**

**Chapter 23**

**Battle Scars**

After speaking to Draco, Snape decided the first stage of his plan was coming together nicely. He felt an odd mix of relief and chagrin over having been recognized by Minerva, while he posed as Potter in polyjuice. She'd never let him live it down, if she ever came to give two Knuts about him again. But at least she hadn't hexed him, and had agreed to allow him to proceed. Snape's next stop, before heading back to the beach house, was Hogwart's kitchens to speak with Dobby. Snape had first thought of using the elf to help train Potter when he saw the little creatures fighting at the Burrow. Elves were not generally allowed to use their magic against wizards. However, anyone who wasn't too busy espousing their inferiority realized they had incredible magical skill and power at their disposal. The little creatures had brought that skill to bear with amazing results against the Death Eaters at the Weasley wedding.

Wizards had never thought to learn from elves as far as Snape knew. But the unorthodox nature of Potter's self-training thus far, and the fact that he had taught himself spells that were thought to be impossible, made Snape think it was worth exploring. And if they could create a group of similarly trained students, the Dark Lord and his followers would never know what hit them. Albus had been pleased with the idea. Of course it would be good to have Dobby around the beach house for household chores as well. Snape would have the little creature procure supplies before he joined them. _Perhaps then Potter will feel it unnecessary to continue his life of crime_, Snape thought with amusement. The boy's look of horrified embarrassment after being hauled home by Robert O'Brien had been quite priceless. The young man's face was so expressive. This was something they would need to work on as well, Snape knew. Sometimes Legillimency was barely needed when Potter was such an open book.

Potter's expressive countenance led Snape to consider the boy's reaction of hurt betrayal earlier. The boy had donned the expression like a rumpled cloak when the older wizard assigned the essay as punishment for his treatment of Filch. Potter's reaction irritated Snape somewhat. He had certainly been much harder on the younger wizard many times. Snape had studiously avoided calling Potter 'arrogant Gryffindor', 'idiot boy', or any of his old favorites. _Maybe that was the problem_, Snape mused facetiously; perhaps the boy missed the affectionate pet names. Even in jest, Snape wondered at his ability to use the word _affectionate_ and _Potter_ it the same sentence. It was not nearly so vile or repugnant as it should have been. The phenomenon was no doubt related to the Occlumency pathway. He knew it had created a bond between he and Potter, which was always the case. Snape had felt the soul link spasm pathetically as he had chastised the younger wizard regarding his actions.

Snape found himself hoping Potter would just complete the essay and put aside what had upset him. He knew it wasn't the essay itself that had caused Potter's stress. Being confined to his room, and ordered to not show up at dinner if he didn't complete the task, had no doubt brought up painful memories of Potter's childhood. Snape knew the memories of the tiny boot cupboard and the routine starvation from previous Occlumency attempts with the boy. Although he did mean Potter to stay in the room, he never thought of locking him in. Snape confined his Slytherins to their dorm rooms regularly in lieu taking points or assigning detentions. He never locked them in; he just expected to be obeyed. His Slytherins _were_ a fairly obedient lot, and he had devised a few clever charms for those who weren't so much, and strayed much farther than the dungeon toilets while on restriction. He generally considered their having to go to Pomfrey to remove the puss-filled boils from their backsides additional punishment enough. Errant Slytherins soon learned to be more attentive to their Housemaster's instructions. As far as he knew his snakes never took it personally. They seemed to adore Severus and they were certainly the only students at Hogwarts who did.

Potter's panic about whether or not he would be locked in his room was nearly comedic. And the Potions Master could not help tormenting the brat a bit by stating dramatically that he should leave his door _open_. Snape had enjoyed his reaction thoroughly after the boy had such a good laugh at his expense regarding Fawkes. He did hope Potter would spend the morning in the fruitful pursuit of completing his essay rather than fretting about whether he was to be starved. Again this was something Severus would never dream of doing, having far too much experience with the practice from his own upbringing. However, that did not stop him from having a bit more fun at Potter's expense regarding the boy's fear. Snape mulled over the possibilities as he prepared to tickle the pear on the painting that would allow him entrance into Hogwarts kitchens.

Snape took a moment to return to his own form. He had used the quick brewed polyjuice that he kept on hand at his lab at the beach house, and only needed to think of something distressing to cancel the effect. A chilling thought of the two hours he had recently spent under the Dark Lord's wand did the trick. For a moment he imagined he felt a brief ghost of the _Cruciatus_. The Potions Master shivered. Thankfully the curse had been intermittent. The Dark Lord's magic had still been slightly weakened from the loss of Nagini's Horcrux, and he had diminished the potency further by trying to possess Potter while casting the curse. The effect had grown weaker as time progressed. However, Snape doubted that would stop him from having nightmares about the experience. Potter's potions had kept them at bay last night. Thus far Snape had gotten away with never having to cast that particular curse. It was certainly was one of Dark Lord's favorites, he thought wryly as he transfigured his clothing.

"Dobby only needs to pack, Master Severus," the elf squeaked in joyful enthusiasm, when Snape told him of his plans. "He has hats and socks and his Wheezy jumper," Dobby announced proudly as he snapped his fingers and disappeared.

The tiny elf reappeared a few moments later wearing every article of clothing he owned. Severus had to stifle a smirk. He always had enjoyed the eccentricity of house elves. Dobby had been an odd piece of work even when he had been bound to Lucius.

Upon returning to the beach house, Severus was pleased to find Potter hard at work in his room. He had two books opened in front of him and he seemed to have written a substantial amount. Snape gave Dobby strict instructions that the younger wizard was not to be disturbed, as the elf bounced up and down excitedly explaining to Potter that he would be staying with them. Dobby tried to wheedle his way into a longer visit. He whined that he only wanted to say hello to Harry Potter.

"Dobby can keep Harry Potter company," he offered with a plaintive little squeak.

Snape told Dobby Potter had work to do. He finally ordered the elf to _go_, resorting to his most dangerous tone, only to have the creature continue to beg like an annoying little first year. Snape's tone would have reduced any first year to quailing obedience. As it was, Potter had the good sense to smother his laugh in a cough as he bent his head back over his parchment. The tone did nothing to dampen Dobby's enthusiasm about seeing the wonderful Harry Potter.

"Well I'm not sure how to handle it if you don't obey me, Dobby," Snape stated reasonably. "What would Lucius do in this situation?" he mused silkily, looking pointedly at the elf.

Dobby's ears flapped forward dramatically, and the elf managed to look hurt as he scampered out of the room with a distressed little squeak. Snape felt a bit guilty. They both knew very well what Lucius Malfoy would do. But Severus doubted he'd ever have the heart to put his boot to a house elf's backside. Potter he had no qualms about.

"Back to work," he ordered the younger wizard with a snarl.

"Yes sir," the young man agreed in a tone that was far too amused for Snape's liking.

He cast around for a way to adjust the lad's attitude.

"This book will assist you how?" Snape demanded snidely as his eyes lighted on, A Healers Guide to Medicinal Magic . A sleeping Fawkes was still perched on the pile of books nearby.

"Oh," Harry began, a trifle unsure. "That one just looked a bit interesting. I borrowed it to read later when I'm done. If that's all right?" The boy finished uncertainly.

"Who would have predicted this latent interest in potions, Potter?" Snape purred sarcastically. "Certainly not I. However, I do admire your confidence in your ability to complete your assignment with time to spare." Snape paused to allow this to sink in. "Dinner is at five. Perhaps I _will _see you there?" Snape said casually. "How many feet have you completed?

"Um," Harry began, looking down. "Foot and a half..."

"Hmm," Snape glanced at the clock on the mantel. "Perhaps not," the Potions Master adopted a falsely unhappy tone. He was rewarded with the boy's petulant glare and a distraught little spasm of the Occlumency link as he swept from the room.

888

_Git,_ Harry thought, as he took up his quill. He'd actually accomplished a lot in the hour or so Snape had been gone. _It's just dinner_, Harry consoled himself. _One meal certainly won't kill me_, he reasoned, copying a quote from the Unforgivables text and noting the page number in his essay. Snape's treatment was nothing compared to life at the Dursleys. And Harry still had a chance to finish the essay on time if he focused.

By 4:45 Harry was one foot short and knew he wasn't going to make it. Neither did he want to rush because he was quite pleased with how the essay was turning out. Besides that, Snape might make him rewrite it or something if it was cobbled together at the end. He had just completed the section on his treatment of Filch. It had been difficult writing about it until he distanced himself from the incident and discussed it like something he had heard about. He had no trouble explaining how his actions constituted ordinary darkness, and was surprised to realize that using the _Obliviate_ was actually the smallest part of that. It was a bit more of a stretch deciding how his behavior would impede him in his battle against Voldemort. Harry finally reasoned that Voldemort could better control wizards that were similar to him. The only way to defeat him would be to aspire to be everything he was not. That felt a bit melodramatic to Harry, but it was all he could come up with, and he was beginning to tire from the task of writing.

Before moving on to his conclusion, Harry discussed whether some Dark curses were worse than others, or if all spells that were deemed dark magic were evil. Harry opined that it depended on the motivation. He detailed positive uses for several dark spells, and included the spell he was being punished for using. He discussed how an _Obliviate_ could be used as a healing spell for someone whose painful memories were not allowing them to function properly. He even surmised that a Killing Curse could be used to end someone's suffering, and an _Imperio_ could be used to _stop_ someone from doing evil.

One curse that he could not come up with a positive use for, however, was the _Cruciatus_. Its sole function was to torture someone. Harry pitched his mind back to the night he had tried to cast the curse on Bellatrx Lestrange on the night Sirius died in the Department of Mysteries.

"You've got to mean it, boy," the ugly witch had spat, as she laughed menacingly from her position on the dais where Sirius had just fallen through the veil.

Harry had wondered earlier if Snape had heard about his use of the curse. He realized now the Potions Master had not, or it would have certainly been part of the morning's discussion. It came up in Harry's dream after the Filch incident. But Snape probably assumed most of the dream memory was fiction. Harry wondered what his punishment would have been if Snape had seen the memory of the _Cruciatus_ as well. _Knowing Snape he would have probably used the curse on me to demonstrate how wrong it was, and he would definitely have assigned a much longer essay_, Harry thought with rueful humor.

Harry decided the best way to deal with the _Cruciatus_ was to come clean. He didn't want to worry about trying to hide the memory from Snape during Occlumency. The easiest way to come clean was to write about it in the essay. _It might also keep Snape from assigning a second essay_, he thought shrewdly. Harry started with some information from the text on Unforgivables. It stated that casting the _Cruciatus_ actually made the caster crave its use. The more you tortured, the more bloodthirsty you became. Harry was able to support this theory with the discussion of magical receptors from Of Ordinary Darkness. Then, as though he was detailing information from an historical text, Harry used the date of the incident at the DOM, and the name of the wizard, Harry Potter, who attempted to cast a _Cruciatus_ without success. Harry quoted Lestrange as though she had been interviewed for the text. He forced himself to look back dispassionately on what his intention had been when he attempted to cast the curse. Harry refused to get caught up in the shame of his actions, or the pain of losing Sirius. That scab would still bleed if he picked it. After thinking on it for a bit, Harry realized that in casting the _Cruciatus_ he had wanted to see Lestrange dead. That had been his intention. The realization was simple yet a bit mind blowing. He wondered if the outcome would have been different if he had cast an _Avada Kedavra_.

Continuing the essay, he argued that the spell may have been successful if spell and intention had been matched. He discussed what effect attempting the curse, and having the intention, would have on a wizard's magical receptors. Harry argued that the intention to kill would be less damaging than the intention to torture. He used Dumbledore and Voldemort's argument that day at the Ministry to support his claim. Voldemort had said there was nothing worse than death as he battled Dumbledore and possessed Harry on that horrible day.

"On the contrary," Dumbledore had replied, in his cool unruffled way. "One of your biggest failings, Tom, is your failure to realize there are many things far worse than death."

Harry wondered for a moment about Voldemort's attempt to get Dumbledore to kill Harry's body in the Ministry Atrium. Was there something about Harry that made Voldemort fear killing him directly? Had he needed to trick Dumbledore into doing evil before he could hurt the older wizard? Harry speculated about this as well in the essay. He then started to loop it back for his conclusion. He discussed how having intentions to use a _Cruciatus_ or a similar curse might hinder someone in taking down Voldemort. It would give the dark wizard more leverage, Harry decided, because the caster would be to focused on hate or revenge. They would not have control of their emotions.

"Done?" Snape's silky voice, startled Harry, when the older wizard entered his room at precisely five o'clock.

"Six inches yet?" Harry offered hopefully, frowning at the mantel clock.

Snape merely inclined an eyebrow and left. Harry stared at the open doorway for a few moments after the man had gone.

_Screw Snape_, Harry thought dispiritedly. I_'m sixteen; I can ruddy well feed myself_. _I'll nick something from the kitchen as soon as he goes to bed_. He was sure Dobby had stocked the kitchen. Harry considered the elf with a grin. _That's it_, Harry decided brightly. He would get Dobby to bring him something to eat just as soon as Snape was off to bed. Forty-five minutes later, he finished the essay at just over five and a half feet. It was six inches longer than Snape had assigned. The work was actually quite a bit better than what Harry normally turned in on regular assignments. Just as Harry put down his quill and began rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses, Dobby appeared with a delicious steaming dinner tray as if in answer to his decision to have the elf sneak him some food. The boy looked frantically at the door.

"No, Dobby," he hissed, a bit panicked "Take it away. You'll get us both in trouble."

"But it is dinner, Harry Potter, sir," the tiny elf squeaked happily. And loudly, Harry noted, casting another glance at his bedroom door as the elf gleefully uncovered the platters.

"I do appreciate it, Dobby," Harry said in a whisper that was both placating and desperate. "But you have to take it away. Please." The elf had the most amazing talent for getting him in trouble. Harry thought wildly of a huge pudding exploding over a man's head, and later a purple faced Uncle Vernon dragging Harry up to his room for a hiding. "Get rid of it, Dobby," Harry squeaked, sounding a bit like a house elf himself. Reluctantly the little creature complied.

Harry was just breathing a sigh of relief and beginning to work the kinks out of his neck, when Snape's distinctive bellow caused him to wince.

"Shite," Harry swore.

"Potter, get out here this instant," the man ordered from what sounded like the front room.

Snape stood near the dinning room table. His arms were crossed and he looked angry when Harry entered. Dobby cringed nearby, dinner tray in hand. Before Harry could deny that he had sent for the elf, Snape was speaking again.

"I will not stand for this sort of childish behavior, Potter!" Snape declared.

Harry cast a look at Dobby. How could he phrase his denial in such way that it wouldn't get the elf in trouble? Snape was talking again before the young man could form a response.

"I will not have you spending your time sulking, is that clear?" The older wizard questioned. Rhetorically, apparently because he still didn't give Harry an opportunity to speak. "You can't just waste good food because you wish to behave like a spoiled brat."

Harry took a moment to try to make sense of the man's last words. _Spoiled brat_ he understood of course; he'd heard it many times.

_How the heck was I wasting food?_

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked in confusion.

"I sent Dobby to your room with your dinner tray and instead of eating, you are apparently opting to sulk." Snape accused darkly. "Perhaps I will set you to writing lines after dinner. _I must not behave like a petulant, sullen Gryffindor_. 100 times.

"What the _hell_ are you talking about?" Harry asked in angry incredulity. "You said I couldn't have dinner unless I was done with that bloody essay."

"Language, Potter," Snape warned. "I said you were not to come to dinner," Snape sneered as though Harry was a tad dimwitted. "That is why I sent Dobby to your room with your tray."

"You sent Dobby..." Harry sounded a bit dim to his own ears now.

"Never mind," Snape said impatiently. "Dobby, leave the food here. I shall see to it the boy eats, " he continued as the elf complied. "Potter, go to your room and fetch your essay," Snape ordered.

888

_That was thoroughly enjoyable_, Snape thought, as he watched the boy's retreating form. _Bloody serves him right, I notice he's not laughing now._ The Potions Master sat down and smirked amiably at Dobby.

"Master is not angry?" the elf asked curiously, arranging Harry's place.

"Certainly not, Dobby," Snape denied, in a falsely shocked tone. "I only mean to see to it the boy eats properly."

"Master is taking care of Harry Potter, sir?" the elf was almost tearful with joy.

Snape stopped himself from sneering.

"Of course, Dobby. Of course. We both will." Snape said soothingly."

"Master is good Master." Dobby squeaked happily.

"Honestly, Potter," Snape said when the boy returned and proffered the roll of parchment. "Did you think I meant to starve you like those idiot Muggles who raised you?"

Harry treated the man to a look of such pure uncensored loathing that the Potions Master actually shrank back from it. Snape realized with a start that it had been a while since the boy had graced him with such a look. He wondered vaguely when that had stopped.

"Sit down, Potter," he said mildly, after regaining his composure.

Snape watched in fascination as the boy instead gripped the back of the chair, and his fingers whitened as they curled around the wooden frame. It was interesting how this tightening coincided with a taut pull on the Occlumency link. At the same time windows all over the beach house began to rattle alarmingly.

"First of all," Snape began mildly, "you are frightening the elf," he indicated an impossibly wide-eyed Dobby pressed into the corner. "And secondly, there is a lot of glass in this house, Potter. If you accidentally break any, it's going to be a big job cleaning it up without magic," continuing in the same mild tone.

Snape saw the young man reining in his magic with effort, although it was clear he was no less angry.

"I was raised by an idiot Muggle myself," Snape continued conversationally. "He had the unfortunate tendency to starve me when the mood struck."

He thought the boy's grip on the chair eased slightly. The stress on the link lessened marginally as well.

"I'd never consider doing that to anyone. However," the Potions Master admitted with a smirk, "I enjoyed immensely making you think I would. Much as you enjoyed my discomfort with Dobby, and earlier with Fawkes."

"Yeah," Harry began in a rough voice, though his anger had abated substantially. "They used to lock me in a boot cupboard as well. It was a riot," the young man said without humor.

"Mine thought I'd rather enjoy the attic crawl space." Snape said with a tiny shrug.

"My Uncle Vernon used to beat me with a cane," Harry reported hotly.

"Good old Tobias favored a paddle," Snape returned mildly. "And my mother...Merlin...that bitch knew a hex or two," he continued.

Harry lifted the edge of his shirt to reveal a snaky little scar on his side. It was just at the waistline. "Lamp cord," the boy announced. "Eight years old."

"Belt buckle," Snape returned, revealing a rectangular scar in approximately the same area. "Seven."

The two went on for about ten minutes trying to out do each other as they showed off their battle scars. Finally, Snape prevailed cleanly.

"I was held under the _Cruciatus_ curse for the better part of two hours by the Dark Lord," Snape proclaimed victoriously.

Harry's mouth worked silently for a moment or two before conceding defeat.

"You win," the young man said with chagrined amusement, before pulling out his chair and settling in to eat.

"Do you wish to attend Bill Weasley's funeral?" Snape asked after the boy had taken a few bites. "It is to be held tomorrow at ten in the morning," he informed him.

Harry stilled his fork mid way to his mouth, and then returned it to his plate. He gave the mound of mashed potatoes a contemplative stir before he answered.

"I'd like to, I think," Harry admitted, still looking at his plate. "Do you think it will be all right?"

"Obviously," Snape said dryly. "Else I would not have suggested it. I will join you," he told Harry. "I'll be disguised with polyjuice of course."

"Who will you go as that won't raise suspicion?" Harry wanted to know, as he gave his potatoes another try.

"Draco Malfoy," Snape supplied in a flat tone. "I shall write him now to say he is not to attend." Snape grabbed quill, parchment and ink from a side cabinet and began writing.

"Won't it bother Draco to know you are posing as him?" Harry asked in mild alarm.

"I had not considered it," Snape said, raising a trademark snide eyebrow. "No more than it should bother you as I was disguised as Harry Potter earlier today," the man observed as he continued to write.

"You what?" Harry sputtered, barely missing spitting out his pumpkin juice.

"By the way, I spoke to Headmistress McGonagall," Snape informed the boy and summoned Fawkes. When the phoenix had disappeared with the note, Snape began to detail the morning's errands. His look dared Harry to laugh when he got to the part about McGonagall realizing who he really was.

"That might work," Harry said enthusiastically when the plan was outlined. "It's ruddy brilliant, actually," the boy admitted, as he chewed noisily.

"So glad you approve, Potter," Snape returned with snide amusement. He took up Harry's essay and made for the couch in the sitting area. Fawkes returned, and Snape read Draco's response before slipping it into his pocket.

"So that was all a joke," Harry asked, as the man stretched his long form out on the couch and settled in to read the essay. "All that stuff with Dobby and the dinner tray was just to mess with me?"

"It was," Snape agreed stretching. "As was my admonition that you should keep your door _open_ this morning," Snape admitted with a smirk.

"Geez," Harry intoned

"I always was a fan of the realistic prank," Snape conceded. "But when the windows started to shake, I assumed you'd had enough."

"That crack about my relatives did push me close to the edge," Harry admitted. "You even threatened to make me do _lines_ for the love of Merlin," Harry shook his head.

888

Harry watched as Snape stretched again on the couch and positioned a throw pillow behind his head as he settled in to read the essay. The young man wondered vaguely if any of his other run-ins with Snape over the years were jokes gone wrong. He finished his meal and pushed his plate away. It disappeared Hogwarts-style.

"Potter, are the parchment and quill still on the table?" The Potions Master asked after a while.

"Yes sir," the boy told him, looking at the parchment, quill and ink Snape had used to send the message to Draco.

"Good," Snape intoned darkly. "I think I may have to assign you lines after all." He lifted his tall frame off the couch and turned to look at Harry. He held the young man's gaze until Harry reluctantly pulled the writing supplies in front of him.

"The _Cruciatus_?" the young man guessed, inclining his head to the tightly rolled parchment Snape was tapping against his thigh.

"Quite," Snape agreed "I might be inclined to assign you another essay had you not laid it out so succinctly here. This is a fair job, by the way," he admitted as his took up his seat at the table again. "If we had been at school, I would have assumed Granger had helped you."

"Isn't your attitude a bit hypocritical, sir?" Harry dared ask, emboldened by the unprecedented lavishness of Snape's compliment. "I mean getting after me for trying that curse, when I'm certain you have used it before."

"Don't play daft, you stupid boy," Snape hissed, rapping Harry smartly on the back of the head with the tightly rolled parchment. "As I pointed out earlier, our roles in this are entirely different. And as you have also pointed out, the only way to prevail against the Dark Lord is to aspire to be everything he is not. I can tell you from first hand experience, he has far too much affinity for that particular curse."

Harry almost pointed out the line Snape referred to had sounded a bit airy fairy when he wrote it, but was certain that would earn him another smack with the parchment. Snape continued when the young man made no response.

"And as well," he pointed out. "I have never used that curse."

Harry looked at the man incredulously. And then his skin paled at the thought that he might be a darker wizard than Snape.

"Oh please, Potter," Snape barked snidely, picking up the thought. "You are a far thing from dark. You have merely gotten a bit dingy from careless handling."

"I'm not... gray, am I?" Harry asked haltingly, thinking of the description from his essay.

"I don't know, Potter," Snape responded silkily. "Are you?" He asked, brandishing the parchment threateningly above the younger wizard's head.

"No sir," Harry decided, eyeing the parchment warily. Like Snape, he was far from a weak- willed gray wizard as described in the book.

"And just because I have not used that particular curse, does not mean I have not used others to the same effect," Snape pointed out. "And as you can surely attest to, I excel at verbal torture."

Harry smiled. He was getting a bit used to the older man's wit.

"So just dingy eh?" The boy opined. "We just need to brighten me up a bit for my big date with Voldemort," he offered smartly.

"Precisely," Snape agreed

"How will lines help with that?" Harry asked, indicating the parchment in front of him.

"There is a tremendous power in writing for clarifying thoughts," Snape opined. "_I am a servant of the light_. 100 times. Hmm?" the man said inclining his chin towards the creamy flat parchment that lay before the boy. "But I only meant it as a threat," Snape admitted. "You need not write lines. Your essay indicates your understanding of your actions. And I will count the extra six inches as payment."

"Thanks," Harry said. "I always thought lines were one of the more stupid punishments at Hogwarts," Harry admitted.

Snape looked pointedly at the white scarring on the back of the boy's hand.

"I could always fetch a quill like Umbridge's, if you think it would give the activity more depth." Snape returned snidely.

Harry reddened and hid his hand beneath the table.

"Bloody cow did that to a few of my Slytherins as well," Snape fumed. "I would have poisoned her if I could have worked it out."

"Wish you had," Harry agreed

"I did what I could," Snape said with a smirk.

"Such as?" Harry wanted to know.

"Such as decreasing the wards on my potions cabinets so the Weasley twins could complete their indoor swamp," Snape admitted.

The Potions Master began a humorous tale of spending the term deliberately just missing catching the twins time after time. And after he put together what they were trying to create, he left books and potion's ingredients out as hints. Harry listened to the tale with gleeful attention. And quite unconsciously, he took up the quill. Doodling along the edge, he began to write the words, _I am a servant of the light_. Linking the sentences together as though they were the most delicate scroll work, Harry began to travel in a circular motion around the parchment. He laughed as Snape continued to talk, every once in a while asking a question. Snape stole glances at the parchment. As his circles grew smaller Harry changed the wording to, _I am a child of the light_, until he finally reached the center, where he wrote, _I am light_.

Having finished his amusing tale, Snape decided it was time to retire. He rose from his seat and took a moment to look at Harry's quill work up close. He examined it for a few bemused moments. The boy had written the phrase many more than 100 times. For the second time that night Snape cuffed Harry on the back of the head. But the Potions Master's touch was oddly gentle. And if Harry had to characterize the gesture, he would have called it affectionate.

"Good night, Potter," Snape said quietly. "Don't stay up too late," the older wizard ordered as he made his way for his room.

"Good night," Harry called lightly when the man was out of earshot.

**_Hope you enjoyed it. Don't forget to review._**


	24. The Nightmare

**Disclaimer: **Huh? Oh...No, their not mine. Yes, I know I've been spending a lot of time with them, but they really aren't mine. The _"Put a stopper in death..." _dialogue is taken from Harry Potter and the Sorcercer's Stone, by J.K. Rowling. However the recollection of the event is more in keeping with what happened in the film.

**Authors Notes: **Thanks for your continued support. Keep those cards and letters coming! Your reviews are worth their weight in Galleons. **There is a bit of a twisted nightmare sequence in this chapter. It is in bold italics just after the first few paragraphs. It involves, Tobias Snape, Severus, Harry, Voldemort, a paddle, and the _Cruciatus_ curse. If such offends, please join us again in chapter 25. **

**excessivelyperky rocks hard! **I couldn't do it without you. Well... maybe I could, but it wouldn't be nearly as good or fun.

**This chapter is mostly about Harry and Severus again. The action should start to move forward next chapter. **

**Enjoy**

**Chapter 24**

**The Nightmare**

After sharing so openly of his childhood memories with Potter, it was not surprising that Severus should dream of his father that night. He dreamt about one of the many childhood memories that he kept close to the surface of his consciousness. His main reason for keeping such painful memories so near was that the Dark Lord enjoyed viewing them. Keeping his conscious mind full of images and angry thoughts of the mistreatments of his youth was a strategy Severus had developed early on during his training with the Headmaster. It was amazingly effective, and kept the Dark Lord well entertained to believe his bitter, petty servant was so troubled by the events of his youth that they continually haunted him. This method had the unfortunate side effect of actually making Severus bitter and petty. He forced himself to develop the habit of replaying images of himself being physically, emotionally, and verbally abused at the hands of his parents, classmates, and the Headmaster himself. Severus had conditioned himself to downplay any feelings of actual loathing. The Dark Lord had used that feeling against him all those years ago when he murdered the young man's parents. However, Severus always kept a low fire of anger about these memories burning just at the surface of his mind, and his snake like master coiled up and basked in its warmth. Severus also salted his consciousness with images of himself ill-treating Potter. While the Dark Lord enjoyed these very much as well, his favorites remained memories of Severus receiving cruel, painful thrashings at the hands of an angry Tobias. The carefully crafted landscape of Severus' mind had always kept the Dark Lord from feeling the need to probe further. He reveled in the images of darkness and cruelty always so close to the surface.

That night Severus' dream began with the familiar memory of a beating. It stood out as one of the Dark Lord's favorites because it was a bit of a battle of wills between father and son.

_**Eleven year old Severus bent humiliatingly over the scarred wooden surface of his father's desk and stoically refused to cry. Tobias grew angrier and more brutal in his efforts with a formidable wooden paddle in an attempt to force tears from the child. As the beating continued, Severus turned his head and dared to stare at the man with a look of such pure undiluted hatred that Tobias became almost fearful in his determination to break the boy. The stand-off would end minutes later, as the contest always did, with young Severus the clear loser. But this time, in this dream, as Severus continued to glare, it became not his father's eyes he stared into, but his own. And the child on the business end of the paddle suddenly became Harry Potter. Severus became enraged at Potter for having invaded his common, predictable dream, and he prepared to apply the paddle in earnest. **_

_**It was eleven year old Potter, a scrawny little first year. When the boy looked up at Severus it was not with hatred, but a sort of repentant confusion. It was with an unspoken promise to do better if he could only puzzle out what made the man so angry. The child's expression took Severus' breath away, though it only increased his desire to be unkind to him. He desperately tried to rationalize his need to punish the boy. Then his mind lit upon a reason. It had started with the child's arrogance that first day of Potions. The insolent little brat could hardly be bothered to pay attention to the opening lecture and instead scribbled inattentively on his parchment. That was the reason, Severus determined illogically, and he delivered a particularly cruel blow. The boy didn't complain outright, though he looked disheartened, and he finally turned his face away. **_

**_Puzzling over the fact that the brat refused to cry, Severus became acutely aware of the child's tiny stature. However, this realization did nothing to quell his determination, and infuriated him all the more. _How dare the boy be so small_, he thought irrationally. _How dare he look so vulnerable?_ How dare he show up in Severus' dream looking like some undernourished urchin? As though in an effort to appease the man, Potter's form changed again, and he became older and a bit taller. But instead of looking less vulnerable, the boy managed to look more so. Severus took in the sight of sixteen year old Potter, dressed as he had been when he came to rescue Draco. This version of Potter met his eyes as well. While the gaze was a tad more defiant, there was still that open sadness, a willingness to set things right, if Severus would only explain what he had done wrong. Snape glared menacingly at the boy's pale skin against the dark surface of the desk. He sneered at the oversized pajama trousers, which hung indecently low on Potter's skinny backside, as though they were a personal affront. The boy was doing it on purpose, this charade of vulnerability. He would teach the pity seeking little ragamuffin a lesson. Severus raised the paddle high, intent on blistering the skinny teenaged backside._**

"_**Cruccccio!" The Dark Lord suddenly cursed in a hissing sing song from somewhere near by. Severus fell writhing to the ground, even as the wooden paddle clattered noisily beside him. **_

_**Shuttered red eyes peered from the snake like visage as Voldemort beckoned with a thin pale hand. "Sssuch a sssweet boy you are, Harry," the evil wizard hissed silkily. He approached the boy and gently pulled him to stand upright. "Why doessss he alwayssss hurt you ssso?" **_

"_**I'm all right," Harry complained in shaky voice, "He only whacked me once."**_

"_**Only becaussse I sstopped him, Harry. I promissse to protect you. Crucccio!" The Dark Lord cursed Severus again, and the man spasmed so hard his torso bounced against the floor. **_

"_**Come, ssweet child, " the Dark Lord murmured softly, in stark contrast to the cruelly uttered curse. "I will not allow him to harm you thisss way," Voldemort pledged, placing a long fingered hand on the boy's thin shoulder. He pulled Harry away a pace, and moved his skeletal hand to the side of Potter's face. Voldemort pulled Harry's head to his thin pale lips and pressed a kiss to the boy's temple. **_

_**Severus watched in horrified fascination from his position on the floor.**_

"_**Perhapsss you would enjoy punishing him, Harry? " The Dark Lord questioned seductively and pressed his wand into the boy's hand . "He certainly enjoysssss punishing you," he whispered sibilantly into the boy's ear. **_

**_The Potions Master watched entranced, as the Dark Lord engulfed the boy's smaller hand in his larger one. He and The-Boy-Who-Lived cast the _Cruciatus_ together. As their combined magic careened forth from the single wand, Severus Snape howled._**

Snape sprang violently awake, cursing himself for having failed to brew a nightmare potion the day before. He berated himself and wondered if he had screamed aloud. He would brew the potion now. The Potions Master gained his feet unsteadily and slipped on his robe and slippers as he made his way out the door. His first thought was that he must have awakened Potter, as he watched the boy, dressed as he had been in the dream, stumble from his room and stagger drunkenly toward the toilet. The boy never made it, and after three precarious steps fell to his knees and retched pathetically on the hallway flooring.

Severus approached quickly, and he _Scourgified_ the mess before helping the boy to his feet.

"Are you unwell?" He asked with a sternness that did not quite mask his concern.

"No, I had..." this time the boy made it to the toilet, but only just. He emptied the contents of his stomach in two more pitiful waves.

Severus pressed one cool hand to the boy's forehead as he helped him to the sink to rinse his mouth. The boy was not feverish that he could detect, but shook violently under his touch. Harry rinsed his mouth. He splashed water on his face and took the towel Severus handed him. But instead of drying his face and damp hair, the boy wet the towel, applied soap, and began to vigorously scrub his face just at the temple, then he moved to his ear. In turn he became obsessed with scrubbing the back of his right hand raw.

Severus watched with quiet confusion and then dawning realization as the boy seemed in danger of rubbing off his skin.

"Stop it!" He commanded abruptly, securing both of the boy's hands in one of his own. With a flick of his wand he removed the soapy residue from Potter's face and hand and the angry redness that had been left in its wake. "You had a nightmare?" Severus asked carefully.

"Yes," the boy acknowledged shakily. He looked down to where Snape held his hands in his own and shuddered. "Only it wasn't a nightmare at first," Harry tried to explain. "No. That's not right. It was a nightmare, but I didn't realize it was from _him_ till it was..." he shook his head as though to clear it. "But as soon as I did, I pushed him out. I Occluded. Should have done it before bed. I know," Harry admitted.

"Yes, you should have," Severus agreed, trying to sound stern and failing miserably. "See to it you do so in future," he scolded, releasing Harry's hands, only just realizing he was still holding them.

Severus wondered if it was possible that they had the same dream. He tried to dismiss the notion as he realized he was terrified find out.

"I had a nightmare also," Snape admitted, trying to sound casual. "I believe the _Cruciatus_ brought it on. What was yours about?" he asked, fearful of the answer.

"Well...you were in it," the boy began shakily and Snape pressed his eyes closed. "You and your dad, I think, at first. Then it turned into you and me. You were...being...cruel," the boy settled on a description, while the Potions Master tried to control his breathing. "We weren't talking exactly, but I was trying to find out why you were angry, so I could...I dunno...fix it. But you wanted to stay mad or something and wouldn't tell me," Harry took a deep breath. "I thought it was an ordinary nightmare at this point...well maybe not ordinary," he amended.. "But then..."

"The Dark Lord arrived," Snape supplied letting out a deep breath.

"Yes," Harry agreed in fearful confusion. "Then he...he and I..."

"Put me under the _Cruciatus_," Snape reported.

Harry stared open mouthed for a moment.

"Ask me what my nightmare was about, Potter?" Snape suggested, recovering some of his snide tone.

"What does it mean, do you reckon?" Harry asked in an uncertain voice. "Does he know?"

"No idea," Snape replied, more calmly than he felt. "But just as you should have Occluded--and will in future," he gave Harry a warning glance, "I should have brewed nightmare potion yesterday. Nightmares are always a factor when held under the _Cruciatus_ for any length," Snape explained. "That and insanity," the man quipped snidely.

"Yeah, but if he sent the nightmare," Harry complained, "and if he sent it to both of us, what does that mean?"

"As I said, Potter, I have no idea," Snape said pointedly. "However," he began in a milder tone, "We don't know if he sent it to both of us. There are several possibilities. We will discuss them while you assist me with the nightmare potion. Go put on your housecoat and slippers." Snape ordered as he swept into the hallway.

"Haven't got any," Harry admitted with a shrug.

"Well go put on something," Snape commanded impatiently. "You'll be surrounded by fire and potentially dangerous chemicals. And potion or no, I am certain I'll have another nightmare if I have to look at your gaunt little arse for the next hour," he chided, indicating the boy's bare torso.

Though he said it in snide jest, Snape was deadly serious. Potter was dressed exactly as he had been in the nightmare and it was disquieting to see him looking so vulnerable in the ridiculously oversized trousers and their too-thin fabric. After years of being underfed by the Muggles, the slightly built sixteen year old could easily be mistaken for a younger wizard. The thought of how badly he had wanted to be cruel to the child in the nightmare made his stomach sicken slightly. The thought of what the Dark Lord had been able to compel the boy to do as a result of that cruelty, sickened him further.

"Did those pants ever fit you, Potter?" Snape wanted to know, giving the boy a good looking over.

"No sir," the boy admitted as he hitched them up more tightly and made his way to his room.

888

Harry joined Snape in the Potions lab a few moments later fully dressed in a sweat shirt, jeans, and trainers. When he arrived, Snape was rubbing a cloudy gel-like substance into his dark, shoulder length hair. Harry watched as the man's hair suddenly hung heavily around his thin face. It actually looked more wet than oily, Harry decided, and realized it hadn't looked like that in a while.

"What's that?" Harry asked as he indicated the tub of gel.

"Fire retardant potion," Snape replied casually. "Certainly crucial when you're working with dunderheads like Longbottom, but never a bad idea when brewing potions. Use some if you like," the man offered giving his hands a quick wash and drying them with a handy towel.

Harry touched a finger to the bouncy surface; it was cold yet somehow dry to the touch. When he gave the tub a sniff, he detected the distinct smell of apples.

"No thanks," the boy said, feeling a bit like he had just solved a mystery.

He watched for a few more moments as the Potions Master assembled ingredients.

"Oh, this is the _Nochebuena_ potion," Harry realized after a bit. "I've been wanting to brew this actually," he admitted enthusiastically.

Snape gave him hard curious look from across the room.

"Well, only 'cuz..." Harry began uncertainly. "It keeps out the nightmares, but not the regular dreams and lets you wake up lots easier than dreamless sleep potion," Harry explained.

Snape's expression hardened further.

"Get over here and chop these," he ordered seeming angry all of a sudden.

_Geez, _Harry thought as he moved to obey. _One minute the guy's holding my head while I puke my guts out. Next minute he acts like he might add me to one of the cauldrons._

"Unfortunately this potion does not call for the blood of scrawny teenagers," Snape answered him aloud. "Now, get your shields up," he ordered. "Have you learned nothing from tonight's adventure?"

"Oh, sorry," Harry replied and quickly Occluded. "Is that what made you mad?" he asked as he walled off the memories of the nightmare using the technique Snape had showed him earlier.

Instead of answering, Snape indicated the orange leaves of the first ingredient.

"One quarter inch wide, three quarters of an inch in length," he instructed sternly.

Harry nodded his head, and began to measure the thick pulpy leaves against the ruled surface of the work table. _Perhaps Snape was just slipping into his Potions persona, _Harry thought, reasonably. The guy always seemed angry during potions. Snape was proving to be a complicated person to figure out. Well, Harry would just work quietly and carefully and do what he was told. That should make it easier on both of them. Harry had been enjoying potions quite a bit and had taken ample opportunity to practice during the summer. Thinking of that reminded him of A Healers Guide to Medicinal Magic. Imagine there being that many potions you could brew without a cauldron. Harry couldn't wait till he got a chance to dive into that book.

"Since when did you come to take such an interest in potions, Potter?" Snape inquired, making Harry start slightly.

The boy was careful not to let it affect the preparation of his leaves as he wondered if he had let his Occlumency shields slip again. They seemed to be intact, and Snape had not yelled. He surely would have done at having to warn Harry twice in such a short span of time. Harry weighed his response as he carefully pushed aside a pile of chopped ingredients and began on a new orange leaf. He'd read about this potion and remembered it required the leaves to be added one at a time.

"I've always thought potions were interesting, Professor," Harry decided to admit.

Snape snorted audibly. "That certainly would not have been obvious from your performance in my class," he opined.

"Well, it is hard to enjoy them with someone glaring at you all the time and threatening you with poison," Harry observed, then braced himself for Snape's response.

"Hmm," was all he said as he scooped up Harry's ingredients against the flat wide blade of a knife and placed them in the cauldron. He raised an eyebrow at the carefully sectioned leaves. "The isis next. Half an inch. Diagonally. Sectioned just the same," he instructed mildly, pointing with his knife to the table of blue leaves.

"I actually thought I'd love Potions that very first day," Harry admitted, emboldened by the fact that Snape no longer seemed angry.

Snape made a doubtful nose and quirked his eyebrow.

"No, really," Harry rushed to assure him, as he began to chop the isis. "It was ruddy brilliant for about five minutes."

"Oh, I don't recall that," Snape replied in doubtful amusement.

Harry stopped chopping for a moment, and then, with a cheeky smile, began again.

"There will be no silly wand waving in here," Harry said sternly in a fair impression of Snape. Then he pointed at the Potions Master with his knife, while affecting a dramatic sneer. "I don't really expect you to understand the beauty of a softly simmering cauldron, with its shimmering fumes," the boy continued in silky imitation." Bewitching the mind ensnaring the senses, I can teach you to bottle fame, brew glory, even put a stopper in death---."

Snape's eyes had grown wide as Harry continued the monologue. Harry waited, not sure if he would be hexed, but certain it would be worth it. Suddenly the Potions Master let out a barking laugh. Harry didn't join in, but grinned from ear to ear as he continued to chop the isis innocently.

"Yep," Harry said when Snape's laughter began to subside. "I was all set to worship you up to that point.

"Oh, indeed?" Snape chuckled doubtfully.

"Well maybe not quite," Harry agreed. "But you had to bugger it up with all those bloody questions. _Powdered root of what? Infusion of which?" _Harry asked with a comically dumb expression.

"Enough, Potter. And mind your language," Snape ordered, plainly trying to rein in his amusement.

Harry couldn't resist going the last mile. "Clearly," he intoned with an arched eyebrow. "Fame isn't everything."

"That will do, boy," Snape said, chuckling out right again.

"Yes, sir," the boy agreed sweetly. "But how was I supposed to know all that stuff?" Harry complained. "Being raised by Muggles and all?"

"Miss Granger seemed to have quite a bit of information," the man pointed out.

Harry took a moment to think on that fact. Hermione had obviously been studying before classes began. _But how was I to have known to do that? And where was I supposed to have done it, on the train?_

"Don't think so hard Potter; you will surely injure yourself," Snape quipped snidely, when Harry suddenly grew quiet.

"Would you have liked me better if I had known all that stuff?" Harry asked suddenly.

"No, Potter," Snape said plainly. "I am quite certain I would have loathed you more," he admitted without apology. "I only asked you those questions because I saw you scribbling furiously and thought you were not paying attention."

"Oh," Harry said in mild surprise. "I was writing down what you said," he explained.

"Clearly," Snape intoned, arching an eyebrow. "Chop." He ordered, indicating the last leaf of isis.

"Oh," Harry said, having lost focus for a moment. "Sorry.

888

"So, what are some of the possible reasons that you and I would have the same dream, Potter?" Snape asked as he turned down the flame to let the potion simmer.

Harry looked a bit surprised to be asked his opinion and took a moment to form his answer.

"Well, if we agree with the premise the nightmare was from Voldemort, it tells us he has recovered somewhat," Harry began. "That's important to know, I think, though it wasn't your question."

"True," Snape admitted. "But a good point none the less," he inclined his head to indicate that the boy should continue.

He listened as Potter outlined his surprisingly well-organized thoughts on the various possibilities. They included Voldemort having sent the nightmare to Harry, and Snape having inadvertently picked it up via the Occlumency pathway. A less pleasant option was that Voldemort knew that Snape was a traitor, and had sent the nightmare as a threat to both he and Potter.

The boy did have an adequate mind, Snape admitted grudgingly. It had been evident, not for the first time, when reading the essay he composed in a mere few hours. Not to mention that he continued to surprise Snape with his knowledge of potions. _Imagine the boy recognizing _Nochebuena_ potion, _Snape thought, trying to quell his irritation_. Has Potter always possessed something resembling intelligence, and I refused to notice, or has the boy not bothered to use it before now_? Snape decided both were probably true as he weighed Potter's responses to his query regarding the nightmare, and turned off the potion to let it cool. _The boy is still brash and impertinent to be sure, but perhaps not a complete dunderhead_, Snape conceded.

"There is also the very slight possibility that the nightmares weren't from Voldemort at all, and they're some sort of symbolic warnings. And maybe we both had them because of the link.

"Warnings in what way?" Snape wanted to know.

"Well I can only speak to what it seemed to represent for me," Harry admitted self consciously. "I guess your...treatment," he said as he stumbled over the word and turned a bit red, "of me represents your cruelty and my lack of understanding of it. And the bit with Voldemort..." here he paused and cleared his throat. "shows how easy it would be to try to seek revenge for such things and wind up being his puppet."

"That is an important thing to keep in mind no matter where the dream came from," Snape agreed as he bottled the last of the potion. "Why might Voldemort send you such a dream?" He asked as though it were a bit of a test.

Potter answered after a few moments thought. "To _entice_ me to seek revenge, so he _can _make me his puppet, and defeat me?"

Snape inclined an eyebrow to indicate he approved of the answer and handed a bottle to Harry. "One for you, and one for me," he said palming a bottle and putting the other eight on the shelf.

"What are you going to do if he summons you tonight?" Harry wanted to know.

"As you pointed out, with surprising aptness, I might add, the _Nochebuena_ potion does not interfere with one's ability to be awakened," Snape pointed out.

"No, I meant..." Harry began.

"I am well aware of what you meant, Potter," Snape interrupted sternly, curtailing further inquiries on the subject.

As they made there way back to their respective bedrooms Snape stopped him.

"Sometime tomorrow, after the Weasley funeral and before bed," Snape began. "I'd like a foot and a half on how this potion would have changed if we had used the talgfar weed instead of the isis."

"Am I being punished again, sir?" the boy asked distressed. "I was just joking with that impression. Really. I didn't mean anything..."

"You are being challenged, Potter," Snape interrupted to correct the boy. "And I am quite certain I should have begun it long ago. Good night, Mr. Potter," the Potions Master said as he made his way to his room.

888

After entering his room, Harry took a moment to bask in the backhanded compliment. Before he gulped the potion and turned in, the young man summoned Dobby. He told the elf to inform him if Snape was summoned during the night. Dobby assured Harry he could assist if Snape was punished by the Evil Snake Wizard. He had done so a few times over the course of the summer.

_**Hope you enjoyed it. Don't forget to review.**_

**Chapter 25**

**The Family Tree**

The twins called them, _Boggarts in a Box_. When they tossed one in front of an unsuspecting Percy, an angry faced Molly Weasley suddenly appeared before him, and the young man scampered upstairs in fear. Just as the figure seemed about to speak, Fred canceled the spell with a flick of his wand and a laugh that sounded a bit forced.

"_Obscuro_," he chuckled, and the angry Boggart Molly disappeared.

"Would it have spoken? Harry wanted to know.

"Boy, would it!" George affirmed with a wink.


	25. The Family Tree

**Disclaimer: **Not even. See the first chapter, if you don't believe me.

**Authors Notes:** Many thanks! Over 300 reviews! Very cool!

**excessivelyperky, she's the one,**

**she makes fanfic writing fun! **

As always, thanks for your edits and insight.

**Enjoy**

**Chapter 25**

**The Family Tree**

With the help of the _Nochebuena_ potion, Harry slept soundly and peacefully until he was awakened at six in the morning by an enthusiastic Dobby.

"Master Severus is at breakfast, Harry Potter sir," Dobby squeaked.

"Did he get called away last night, Dobby? Is he hurt?" Harry asked, squinting from the elf to the mantel clock in bleary eyed confusion.

"No Harry Potter, sir. Master says it is breakfast time," the elf informed Harry happily.

"Oh...thanks," he said, getting drowsily to his bare feet and pushing his glasses on clumsily.

Snape was drinking coffee when the boy shuffled sleepily into the dinning room. He seemed to take in Harry's rumpled appearance while peering at him over the brim of his cup.

"Just because I insulted your pajamas, Potter, doesn't mean you need sleep in your clothing." Snape intoned snidely as he sipped his coffee.

Harry looked down at his rumpled sweat shirt and jeans, and gave Snape a sleepy, embarrassed smile as he flopped into his chair. The boy leaned an elbow on the table and rubbed the sleep from his eyes with the heel of one hand, while taking a noisy slurp of pumpkin juice with the other.

"Morning, Professor," he said, setting the glass down and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Elbows off the table, Potter," the older wizard ordered as he continued to drink his coffee.

888

"We have three hours until the funeral," Snape told Harry, after the boy finished a second helping of eggs. "I'd like to have an Occlumency lesson and begin discussing a training schedule with Dobby before we depart."

Breakfast with Potter had been a veritable symphony of smacks and slurps that set Snape's nerves on edge. He had first noticed the boy's deplorable table manners at Hogwart's kitchens before they arrived in Ireland.

"Okay, I'll just go brush my teeth and stuff." said Harry agreeably, jumping up from the table and wiping his grubby teenage mouth on the sleeve of his gray sweat shirt. It was at this point Snape decided he had seen and heard enough.

"Get back here, Potter!" He ordered firmly

"Wha?" the boy asked in confusion

"Sit." Snape ordered just as firmly

"'Kay," Harry agreed warily

"This," Snape began, indicating the clean white linen next to Potter's plate, "is called a nap-kin," he enunciated.

"Oi," Harry said cheekily. "I've 'erd o' that before."

This response caused Snape to cuff Harry rather sharply on the back of the head in an effort to inspire a more serious attitude. He was gratified at how effective it was.

"Now, when you begin a meal, Mr. Potter," Snape explained patiently. "You place this on your lap. Do you know what else it's used for?" He asked in false gentleness. He sounded a bit like Flitwick with the first years.

"To wipe your mouth," the boy supplied as he rubbed the back of his head.

"Very good, Mr. Potter. Now would a polite, nearly of age, wizard ever use his sleeve instead of a napkin?" The boy looked down at the sleeve of his sweat shirt where the egg yolk was beginning to dry.

"No, sir," the boy said.

"Of course not, Potter," he said as though such behavior were too silly to contemplate. "That would be rude and disgusting. Now finally, when you wish to leave the table you say, _"excuse me_"," Snape told him. "All polite wizards do this," he explained looking at the boy pointedly.

"Oh!" Harry said catching on. "Excuse me, sir?"

"Certainly, Potter," he inclined his head. "Later we will discuss the wide variety of sound effects that seem to characterize your dining experience. "

"All right," the boy agreed with a shrug as he headed toward his room.

When Harry returned, his face was cleaner, his hair looked a bit less of a bird's nest, and his clothing was no longer rumpled. But Snape could tell it was the same sweat shirt, as the egg stain was only partially removed.

"Tried a bit of an ironing and cleaning spell did we?" He asked snidely, indicating Harry's sleeve.

"I'm not very good at that one," Harry admitted, his face turning red beneath the scrutiny.

"Why didn't you just change?" The man asked reasonably.

Harry admitted he didn't have that many clothes, and reddened further.

Snape shook his head as though he thought the boy were a bit hopeless. Grabbing his wrist and resisting the urge to rap the boy across the knuckles with his wand, he cast a cleaning charm to remove the last of the egg stain from the thick, gray fabric of the sweat shirt.

"Why would someone who hasn't many clothes and isn't good at cleaning charms ever consider using his sleeve as a napkin?" Snape asked in mild dismay.

Harry gave an embarrassed little half shrug before looking down to give his trainers a close looking over.

"What are you going to wear to the funeral?" Snape asked

"These," the boy admitted with another shrug. "I'm good at transfiguring simple clothing. It usually lasts about two hours, so long as I don't do anything too active."

Snape merely nodded in response.

_**When their minds joined in the Occlumency pathway, Snape immediately sensed the boy's distress at being disapproved of. Also clear was the boy's confusion that such a thing should concern him so. It confused Snape as well. However, he grudgingly admitted that it made sense on some level.**_

"_**You are a sixteen year old wizard, Potter. By definition you are expected to be a bit unrefined," Snape said into the mind link. "And it is the job of any adult who comes in contact with you to tell you so," he explained in mild amusement. "It's not a matter of approving or disapproving, though I disapprove of you in many ways. But in far fewer than I used to," Snape admitted. **_

"_**Thanks. I think." Harry said with amusement, as his distress seemed to fade.**_

"_**Now there is no time for a memory of your choosing this morning, unless you insist." Snape said in tone that indicated what he desired the answer to be.**_

"_**No, sir. I guess I don't insist," Harry replied with a chuckle.**_

_**The Occlumency lesson involved Harry filling his mind with memories of someone who he disliked or who had been cruel to him.**_

"_**You may not choose me," Snape warned unnecessarily. **_

_**Harry had already chosen Percy Weasley. He had been wondering if he was going to see him at Bill's funeral.**_

"_**Our nightmare last night made me think it might be beneficial for you to learn this particular technique. It is used to keep the negative thoughts that sometimes inhabit the surface of our consciousness from permanently damaging our magical receptors and our souls."**_

_**Snape showed Harry a memory from his surface consciousness. It featured the Headmaster tongue lashing a second year Severus to ribbons in front of a crowd of students. Among them were the Marauders and a herd of rabid Gryffindors, all of whom were positively gleeful, but even the Slytherins were amused to witness someone so thoroughly chastised. While this image played out above, complete with its feelings of anger and humiliation, Snape called forth another memory to play out just bellow the band of emotion. It was a memory of Severus and the Headmaster sitting on the couch that the old man sometimes transfigured to sit in front of his desk. The two were eating ice cream. The Headmaster, his eyes twinkling madly, was relating a story about his brother Aberforth and the family goat that made young Severus explode in peels of boyish laughter. Severus had to wipe his eyes from laughing so hard. **_

_**888**_

_**Harry looked beyond the memory to the dais where their souls resided. The Headmaster's brilliant gold band of magic, which was firmly anchored in Severus' soul, bounced lightly as though to stretch its boundaries with mirth. As Harry looked at Severus' soul, he noticed for the first time a ring of small cup- like reservoirs that circled the perimeter of its misty surface. They shone with the most brilliant light, even as smoky black tentacles swirled and slapped at them trying to douse their flames, and gain purchase in the little basins.**_

"_**Are those your magical receptors?" Harry asked in seemingly awestruck understanding as the reality merged with what he had read on the page.**_

"_**Very good," Snape said. "It is important to note their reaction. Now, redirect your attention this way. I have another, more difficult, example to show you. Any memory with Albus is quite easy to circumvent because of my love for him." **_

_**The cozy dream like atmosphere of the Occlumency pathway made it hard for Harry to stay focused. He contemplated for a moment how easily Snape could admit feeling love in the pathway. Then his attention wandered to the magical receptors that surrounded his own soul. They shown brightly, although not near as bright as Snape's. But neither were they actively battling darkness the way Snape's were. As Harry pondered this, Snape's silvery-blue band of magic that was anchored in the misty center of the boy's soul gave what seemed to be an irritated twitch. Pulling his attention away, Harry looked over at the Potions Master. He noticed that the twitch seemed to correspond to the cross look that was spreading over the man's features. Harry felt a certain tautness of the link within his chest. Then he remembered he was supposed to be to paying attention, and that Snape could hear his rambling thoughts.**_

"_**So help me, Potter if you can not attend to this lesson, I will end this link and give you a good hexing," the man warned.**_

_**Harry pondered the fact that Snape's threat would have sounded fifty times more threatening outside of the link. Snape's willingness to hex him was difficult to take seriously in the gentle intimacy of the pathway.**_

"_**I promise you will take me very seriously, if I need to interrupt this lesson to make you pay attention, boy," the man warned, falling short of sounding menacing by several meters. **_

_**However, Harry knew he was right; an angry Snape was fairly impossible not to take seriously outside the pathway. Harry forced himself to focus.**_

"_**Now, if you are quite finished," the man said. Harry didn't know what tone he was aiming for, but it sounded gently chiding at best.**_

_**888**_

**_Next, Snape played a memory at the surface of his consciousness that featured himself and Sirius Black. Just as fourth year Severus was rounding the corner to enter the Transfiguration classroom, Black hexed the floor with both an _aquamenti_ and an _incline_ charm. Severus slipped on the water and the huge stone slide that the floor outside the classroom had become. The boy slid on his bum for several meters into the classroom. This was much to the delight of the assembled Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Severus' anger at Black was almost tangible._**

_**To counteract the negativity of this memory, Severus played an image just below the band of emotion. It featured Black sticking up for Lupin with the ferocity of a real griffin. Three Ravenclaws were picking on his much smaller friend for his tiny stature, pale skin, and the fact that he was out sick nearly once per month. Once again, Snape's magical receptors burned brightly, the little tongues of darkness not having a chance to take hold.**_

"_**Do you understand how this can be accomplished even if you truly despise the individual?"**_

_**Harry said he did, and Snape had him practice with the memories he had chosen of Percy.**_

_**888**_

_**The boy failed miserably at first. The tiny black tentacles slapped two of his receptor fires out completely and tried to coat the little reservoirs with a sticky, gummy substance. At first this made Harry angry, and to his alarm all his fires burned dangerously dim. He looked at Snape in horrified fear, and to his amazement, the man looked at him in the most gently reassuring way. Harry felt the link inside him pulse lightly as though Snape were gently stroking it, as one might soothe a frightened cat. Harry's receptors burned bright again, and instantly burned off the gummy goo the darkness was trying to coat them with.**_

_**Harry tried again and again without any noticeable improvement. Finally he let his mind travel back to the night he had rescued Malfoy. He had rescued him mainly because he had wanted to save Snape from having to curse the younger wizard, as Voldemort had ordered all of his followers to do. It was odd that Harry should have cared about such a thing given the fact that he and Snape had always despised each other. Malfoy was another one Harry had always hated. Yet, when he got to Voldemort's hideout and saw how cruelly Malfoy had been tortured, he suddenly felt a sort of brotherhood with the boy. It was a narrow alliance in a unique set of circumstances. Harry reluctantly opened his heart up to the need to protect the other wizard. It was this unusual set of complicated emotions that Harry sent into Voldemort's mind before he Apparated away with Malfoy.**_

_**It was contemplating how his emotions had shifted with Malfoy that Harry was finally able to gain success with the exercise. Numerous images of Percy Weasley being a righteous git played out on the surface of his mind. However, just beneath the band of emotion revealed a badly shaken Percy pulling Ron from the lake after the second TriWizard task. And Harry's magical receptors burned true; the tentacles of darkness had no chance to douse the light.**_

"Well done," Snape told the boy, putting a steadying hand on his shoulder, and giving it a bit of a squeeze as they broke contact. "You did well once you internalized the concept. I would like you to practice these techniques as you go about your daily responsibilities." Harry had began to perspire from the exertion of the exercise. "The true test of your growing skills," Snape said, "will be when you can manage them when you are under pressure. So from now on, and certainly while we are out today, keep your shields up full."

"Yes, sir," Harry agreed wiping the dampness from his brow with one arm, while Snape took a moment to glance at his pocket watch. The boy still felt a bit of the euphoria that seemed to accompany his experiences in the pathway.

"We still have a hour yet before we need to get ready. You will work with Dobby during that time." After summoning Dobby, Snape told the little creature that he was to work with Harry each morning from seven to ten. He told Dobby that he would prefer they worked on offensive magic first. They should begin immediately and work for the next hour.

"Dobby can show Harry Potter a cloaking charm, Master," the elf explained excitedly.

"Very well," Snape said sternly. "I'll expect a progress report from both of you at the end of the hour and at the end of each day's session."

Harry was a bit worn down from the Occlumency exercise, but he was interested to see what Dobby might show him. He was starting to get a bit of an inkling of what his days of training might be like under Snape's tutelage. Up at six definitely sounded like the Potions Master was done wasting time. Of course Harry had held himself to a pretty rigorous schedule all summer. It did feel a bit different, though, that he was no longer calling his own shots. It felt like a bit less pressure in some ways and a bit more in others. Daily progress reports sounded intimidating, and Harry wondered if he would get in trouble if he didn't learn Dobby's spells as fast as Snape thought he should.

"We will also be taking a look at Nagini's memories in the pensieve when we return," Snape was saying. "And do not forget you have your essay due before bedtime tonight," he admonished.

"No sir, of course not," Harry returned; he had forgotten completely. Essays. That was another way Snape's training might be different from his own. _Snape certainly was fond of assigning essays_, Harry thought. He was suddenly tired as he contemplated the coming weeks and months.

"Wipe that sour expression off your face, boy," Snape ordered. "Today is likely the last day we can afford anything like such a leisurely pace; you'd do well to take advantage of it. After term begins you will be studying your regular course load as well," he warned making his way from the room.

Snape had mentioned expecting him to sit for his NEWTs at the end of term. _My regular course load as well for the love of Merlin_, Harry thought irritably _Getting rid of Voldemort should bloody well be enough_, Harry decided, feeling hard done by all of a sudden. Meanwhile a cheerful Dobby stood before him excited beyond belief.

"Ready, Harry Potter, sir?" He asked practically bouncing up a down.

"Sure, Dobby," Harry said trying to put aside the image of foot after foot of blank parchment.

As it turned out, the cloaking charm was really cool. It was wandless and non verbal, and it rendered the caster invisible and silent. After casting the charm one could move about, and their opponent would think they were gone. The principle was a lot like Apparation. After thirty minutes Harry was able to make it work once, but he wasn't able to replicate it again. The effect was ruddy brilliant and Harry was relieved they would have a bit of progress to report to the Potions Master.

Twenty minutes later, Harry was standing outside his room in his newly transfigured dark purple shirt, black trousers, and matching black cloak with velvety purple lining. Snape exited his own room and gave the boy the once over.

"You look the proper young wizard in that outfit," the man opined pulling his own Slytherin green dress robes straight. Harry thought Snape looked a bit too highbrow, but then remembered he'd be Polyjuiced as Draco Malfoy.

"Thanks," the boy said indicating his own clothing. "I saw something like it at Madam Malkins," Harry admitted,

Just as he was brushing a bit of lint from his pant leg his scar began to tingle. The boy caught his breath sharply, and Snape grasped his own arm as though in pain. Pausing only slightly the man continued back into his room. Harry controlled his breathing. He kept his mind firmly Occluded, though he desperately wanted to try to see if he could get a hint of the dark bastard's mood. _I could let down my shields for just a moment_, Harry thought nervously, as he waited for Snape to reemerge from his room. When he did a moment later, he was dressed in his normal robes and carried a black cloak and white mask.

"Do you want me to Unocclude for a moment?" Harry asked. "Just so you could have an idea of his mood?"

"Do not presume to toy with him, you dunderheaded imbecile." Snape hissed, roughly grabbing Harry's arm in a vice-like grip and drawing the younger wizard to just inches from his face. "I assure you, you are not yet up to the task," Snape berated the boy, roughly releasing his arm with a bit of a shove against the door frame.

"It's not toying," Harry complained, rubbing the feeling back into his appendage. "I just wanted to check his mood. In and out. It's a good tool to have, why can't I use it?" Harry queried, sounding a bit petulant. "I have more control when it's emotions. With visions he has the upper hand, I'll admit. But I was even able to _send_ him an emotion when I rescued Malfoy."

"I seem to recall threatening to maim you in some way if you repeated any part of that stunt. And to think last night I was thinking you didn't seem as great a dunce as you use to be." Snape held up his hand to stall the boy's interruption. "Enough, Potter," he scolded, sounding exasperated by the boy's stupidity. "If you ever mention purposely doing something that asinine again, I'll hex your impetuous little arse to within an inch of your life," he promised matter-of-factly.

Harry stared in open defiance.

"Do I need to go down the long list of all the things you are not allowed to do should I be gone for any length of time?" The man questioned sternly.

"No Horcruxes, no rescue attempts, no robbing Gringotts," Harry listed in flippant anger at not being taken seriously.

"You should continue on to the funeral," Snape ordered, with a frustrated shake of his head, and made his way past the boy. "That way if something happens you are already in the company of those who can help you."

"What are you going to do if he knows, though? We still don't know if he sent the nightmare!" Harry asked, letting his anger show clearly now.

"_You_ are going to the Burrow!" Snape ordered, whirling back to face the younger wizard. "Come!" he ordered, making his way towards the front room.

The boy's wrath was no match for his, but in spite of shrinking back a bit, Harry refused to back down.

"What are you going to do if he tries to kill you?" Harry questioned, very nearly shouting.

"I won't allow it," Snape reported simply. He reached out to tow Harry by the arm, never breaking stride as he made his way to the front door.

Moments later both wizards stood at the apparation spot beneath the cave.

"Go," Snape ordered firmly

"I'm just..." Harry began, his eyes beginning to burn behind his glasses.

"I know what you are just," Snape interrupted. "Now do as you are told." He commanded, his voice sounding far too gentle for the words.

Finally Harry obeyed, and the last thing he saw before he Disapparated was the Potions Master's stern dark gaze.

At the Burrow the Weasley family seesawed back and forth between hauntingly subdued and oddly gregarious, as they attempted to manage their grief. When Harry arrived, Arthur looked like a lost little old man as he hugged him tightly and thanked him for coming. Molly brushed the boy's cheek with trembling lips and gave him a sad brave smile as she gently tousled his rowdy hair. Charlie, looking for all the world like his other half was missing, hung protectively close to his mum and dad, his face as fierce as when he wrangled dragons.

Ginny and Ron somehow looked much younger than their years. Seeming more twins than Fred and George, they bent with their heads touching and spoke in a youngest sibling shorthand. They alternated between tears and tearful giggles. Fred and George were the only ones who seemed their normal selves, which given the circumstances felt tragically out of place. Fleur sat near the family but off to one side. She seemed the outsider again as she sat with Hermione, who was subtly trying to bridge the gap between the grief-stricken young woman and her brief in-laws. The only one who seemed more apart was Percy, who for once didn't look pompous, but seemed to be working rather hard at determining an appropriate expression of grief. Harry felt more the stranger himself as his sadness over Bill's death mixed oddly with his concern for Snape's life.

Bill Weasley's funeral was quite a bit different from Dumbledore's. It was the first time Harry realized that different wizarding families followed different philosophical traditions aside from the average pure blood and halfblood divisions. Dumbledore belonged to the Merlinite tradition who buried their dead in tombs. The Weasleys were Arbolites. After cremating their loved ones they spread the ashes around a family tree. The Weasley family tree was fairly ordinary looking, although quite old. Harry had barely taken notice of it during previous visits to the Burrow. The tree had seen many such homes as the family relocated down through the centuries. All Weasley ancestors for generations back would have had their remains spread among its thick roots, which gently broke the surface of the ground and vibrated slightly as Bill Weasley was spread gracefully among his foreparents. Traditionally this was done by the youngest relative. There wasn't a dry eye in the vicinity as Ginny tread delicately among the ancient, gnarled roots and bade her brother a good journey.

The mourners were gathered round hand-in-hand. Harry was between McGonagall and Remus. As they all poured out their feelings of love for Bill, the large tree began to bloom. The flowers came a bit different for each person who was buried beneath it, Harry had been told by a teary eyed Ron, and it would bloom the same every year on the anniversary of the witch or wizard's death. The large tree bloomed large white flowers with purple centers for Bill. Harry recognized the beautifully angular petals, but had never known what they were called.

After the service people milled about in small groups sharing one story or another about Bill. Fred and George, overly keen to show Harry their newest invention, dragged the boy into the house. A sour faced Percy had gone in before them and he sat stiffly at the table in self imposed isolation. The twins called them _Boggarts in a Box_. When they tossed one in front of an unsuspecting Percy, an angry faced Molly Weasley suddenly appeared before him, and the young man scampered upstairs in fear. Just as the figure seemed about to speak, Fred canceled the spell with a flick of his wand and a laugh that sounded a bit forced.

"_Obscuro_," he chuckled, and the angry Boggart Molly disappeared.

"Would it have spoken? Harry asked, trying not to frown. A few months ago he might have found it funny, but picking on Percy had lost a bit of its charm.

"Boy, would it!" George affirmed with a wink.

"That's brilliant," Harry assured them. "I'd lay off a bit though," he admonished gently. "You might upset your mum and dad."

Fred agreed, but George remained unconvinced.

"Come on, it's only Percy," he complained, "Not so perfect now is he?" George queried in a moment of misplaced anger. _Or perhaps not so misplaced_, Harry reasoned, as he thought it over a bit. As they made there way back outside, George handed Harry a box of Boggarts. He said it was a trial sample.

The first thing Harry noticed when they he reemerged from the house was the slightly panicked buzz. Harry walked over to McGonagall, who was speaking in a frantic tone to Tonks, Lupin, and Moody. The ex- Auror had received a Ministry bulletin that ten Death Eaters had been broken out of Azkaban that morning.

"Was your teacher called away last night?" McGonagall inquired in an unreadable tone when the others were out of earshot.

"This morning," Harry affirmed. "Just before we were preparing to come here," at her confused expression he added. "He was going to be disguised as Draco."

Among those who escaped were, Malfoy, Avery, Macnair, Nott, Jugson, Rookwood, Crabbe, Parkinson, Bulstrode, and Goyle. Voldemort had apparently been unconcerned with the more recent detainees and sprung only his top lieutenants. The ten had been imprisoned since the night the prophesy had been lost at the Department of Mysteries.

Seventeen Muggles were admitted to St. Mungos after being tortured to distract the prison guards. One Auror was dead, having been struck down by a _disfigurement_ hex, as was one as yet unidentified Death Eater, having been caught in the powerful wash of the illegal spell. Witness reports stated it almost looked as though the man had been trying to shield the Auror from the hex, which had been cast by Malfoy as he fled the scene.

Before departing from the Burrow amid tearful concerned good-byes, McGonagall insisted that Harry join her for tea at Hogwarts.

As Harry sat in a chair near the little tea table in the Headmistress' office, he found himself baffled by how much things had changed in such a short time. At the beginning of the summer, Harry had been bound and determined not to be trained by Snape. All his hard work had been motivated by that single desire. The boy had no idea when that desire had changed. It happened quite subtly, and now the prospect of continuing this task without Snape bothered Harry more than he would have imagined possible a few months ago. He couldn't latch on to any reasonable explanation. It was odd little things, like feeling such pride when Snape threw a word or two of praise his way that it was a bit embarrassing.

The man had spent so many years of Harry's life thinking he was an idiot that any hard won compliment from him felt more satisfying somehow than much of the praise he got from the wizarding world without putting forth any effort. Harry was shocked and a bit confused to realize how much it meant that he seemed to be earning a bit of the man's respect. Harry thought back to the morning's Occlumency lesson. He'd felt his heart swell slightly beneath the firm pressure on his shoulder and sternly offered, _"well done_." Of course Snape had gotten righteously angry a bit later, but even that was just Snape trying to keep Harry from doing something he thought was stupid, the boy admitted. Harry was just getting used to this...whatever it was, and he wasn't ready to give it up yet. He concentrated on the Occlumency link. Surely it should feel different if Snape had been killed. But the link felt the same and Harry didn't know what that meant.

"Somehow he has earned your trust," McGonagall observed in a bewildered tone. "That is something that was outside my imagining," she admitted.

"Mine too," Harry quipped

"I think it's probably best if you plan on staying at Hogwarts for a while."

Harry was shaking his head before her words were completely out of her mouth.

"I better go back," Harry told her as he finished off his tea. "I should be there when he returns, or he'll get mad and think I'm off doing something stupid."

"Harry," she gently chided. "You have to consider that the unidentified man is him."

"No I _don't_," he told her with a bit of a sneer. "Why do I have to consider that?"

"Although I am still too upset with him to assign a heroic motive to any action of his, who else but Severus may have tried to shield an Auror?" She asked simply.

"We don't even know if that's really what happened," Harry returned smartly. "I should go, Headmistress," Harry told her again. "He may be back and hurt. Someone is always tortured. Although Malfoy and crew probably received the lion's share of the attention today as a welcome home gift," Harry said and tried to quell the satisfaction that rose up at the image. He sat down his cup and prepared to go.

"I insist at least that you tell me where you two are hiding," McGonagall demanded in her sternest tone.

It was no match for his imagination of the tone a live and well Snape would use if Harry revealed such information prematurely.

"I should go," Harry repeated. "He might be back already."

"And if he's not?" She wanted to know. "If he doesn't come back?"

"Then I'll continue with the plans we have laid out so far and adjust them as I need to. I've still got the Headmaster," he said, fingering the disillusioned Angelth nervously."

"Splendid idea," she said as though she would win this round. "Let us speak to Albus and see what he recommends?"

Harry hadn't spoken to the Headmaster since the old man had told him off about going after the Horcrux. He desperately wanted to speak to him now though. However, he didn't want to do it in front of McGonagall for fear his complicated emotions would get the best of him.

"It's too early," he said reasonably. "We don't have enough information yet."

The Headmistress looked extremely displeased.

"And when do you plan on contacting him?" She asked like she'd assign detention if he didn't comply straight away.

"I dunno," Harry said, mostly to avoid being bullied. "I'll just go back and see what's up," he said in a placating tone as he made his way for the door. "I'll send you word by Fawkes."

888

"Would you like to use the floo?" she asked adopting a look of innocent concern, but then she grinned at the transparency of the ploy.

"I'll be in touch, Professor," he promised with a wry smile "I may yet need your help yet. I just need to get a few more facts first."

"Do take care, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said with a sad sigh as Harry exited her office.

The Headmistress did approach the floo when the boy left. She couldn't help Potter if he wouldn't allow it. But perhaps she could be of assistance to Mr. Malfoy.

"Dungeon Common Room," the Headmistress said with determination and stuck her head into the fire.

_**Hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are good. Keep 'em coming!**_

**Chapter 26**

**Spiders and Snakes**

"It took Severus a month to master the method," the Headmaster continued. "However, I believe it was because he was often dealing with more complex emotions than you yourself face," the old man opined.

Harry thought back to the image from the Occlumency lesson. The Headmaster had thoroughly humiliated a second year Snape in front of a room full of Gryffindors and Slytherins.

_Boy, I'll say,_ Harry thought. _It would have taken more than a bowl of ice cream, and a story about your brother snogging a goat for me to have forgiven you for that. _


	26. Spiders and Snakes

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything.

**Authors Notes: **Many thanks for the kind reviews. I very much appreciate them. Dumbledore telling off Harry during the school year is from HBP, pages 513 and 514, British edition. Great Aunt Tessie, who had the same flowers as Bill, is from GoF. **I'm going out of town on Sunday, so you folks might have to wait a bit longer for my next update.**

**excessivelyperky **rocks!. Thanks again for doing what you do so well!

**Enjoy**

**Chapter 26**

**Spiders and Snakes**

By the time Harry arrived back at the beach house, he had almost convinced himself that Snape would be there. It came as quite a letdown when he was not, and neither had Dobby heard from the man. Harry was resistant to the idea of contacting the Headmaster just yet. It was almost as though by doing so he would be admitting that Snape was dead. He paced around the house for a bit and tried to figure out what course of action to follow.

When that proved to be no help, he decided, quite uncharacteristically, to complete the essay Snape had assigned. His hope was that the act of doing so might miraculously bring the man home. Harry silently acknowledged that his behavior was a tad irrational, as he sat down at the dinning room table with parchment, ink, and quill.

Snape had assigned the essay as a challenge, he had said. In truth it wasn't so much so for Harry. He had already read about the _Nochebuena_ potion, and he knew that a substitution of talfgar weed would turn it into a potion called _Hablabo_. This potion would allow whoever ingested it to do a spot on impersonation of anyone they chose. All they needed to do was picture the other person's face. That was one reason Harry initially thought Snape was assigning the essay as punishment for his rather cheeky impersonation of the Potions Master the night before. Instead Harry realized it was meant to be a bit of a joke, and a challenge, like Snape had said.

Harry wrote about how the color, texture, and consistency of the potion would change, as well as the additional counter clockwise stirring and brewing time it would require. The dosage would be different too. He remembered to mention that the _Hablabo_ potion was often used in conjunction with _Polyjuice_. In about forty-five minutes he had completed the foot and a half Snape had assigned. Harry decided that perhaps he didn't need to hate essays as much as he used to because he seemed to be getting a bit better at them. He read the thing over once for errors and set it down carefully at Snape's place at the dinning room table as though in quiet offering.

Harry let out a deep sigh and thought about taking a look in the pensieve and a half dozen other things that were sure to cause trouble if Snape were to return. Again, he secretly hoped that such behavior might cause him to return.

After a few more minutes of thought, Harry was feeling more and more like he was putting off the inevitable. He quilled a note to McGonagall and sent it via Fawkes. She wrote him back straight away,insisting again that he return to Hogwarts. Finally, considering that Snape had wanted him to go to the funeral so he could be near McGonagall and the others in case something happened, Harry eventually capitulated. He gathered a few things in a knapsack and summoned Dobby before leaving.

"I'm going out Dobby. Maybe overnight," Harry told the little elf. "Headmistress wants me back at Hogwarts. Is there a way for you to contact me if the Professor shows up?"

"Yes, Harry Potter, sir," the little elf affirmed. Dobby took Harry's right hand in his. He produced a translucent yellow band and wrapped it around both their wrists. Before Harry had the presence of mind to protest or question, the band melted as though into their skin.

"Dobby," Harry asked breathlessly, shaking off a slight tingling in his hand. "Did you just bind yourself to me?" The young man wanted to know.

"No," the elf denied. "Dobby bound _you_ to _him_."

"I'm not sure I understand the difference," Harry told the elf. He was shaken up by the notion.

"Dobby was freed," the elf explained as though that clarified the issue.

Harry decided it didn't, but neither did he have the energy or time to attempt to understand just now.

"You'll be able to contact me, though, the moment he arrives?" Harry asked, shaking himself lightly as he headed for the door.

"Of course, Master Harry," the elf assured him, as the young man exited the house.

It was not until he arrived in Hogsmeade that he realized the tiny creature had referred to him as "Master."

Harry made his way to the Shrieking Shack and onto the castle grounds. When he arrived in front of the twin gargoyles, he hesitated before giving the password. It was _Lemon Verbena_. The Headmistress preferred tea rather than sweets, but apparently she and Dumbledore shared a common affinity for lemon. Harry wasn't completely sure why he had come back. McGonagall couldn't have forced him to do so. She probably would try to compel him though, now that he was here, to contact the Headmaster. Harry still didn't think he was up to doing that in her presence. He barely felt up to doing it alone. He slowly made his way past the twin monsters without disturbing their rest.

Almost against his will, his legs carried him up to the Astronomy Tower. He paused in the corner near the entrance, in approximately the same position he had stood frozen on that terrible night all those months ago. Harry had catalogued the memory with the others of its kind: Cedric falling in a flash of awful green, Sirius slipping through the shadowy veil, but for all their horrible similarities, the memories were of simpler times that had felt normal and ordered in a way. He had adored Dumbledore, loathed Snape, and all was right with the world. Now Harry found himself in the bizarre position of being concerned for Snape and a bit apprehensive about speaking to the Headmaster.

The last time he had spoken with him, the old man had been extremely cross. Harsh words from the Headmaster had been more and more common since receiving the Angelth, but if Harry was honest, it had started during the school year. Dumbledore had been clearly displeased, and not shy about showing it, when Harry had failed to put forth much effort in retrieving Slughorn's memory. Then on the night they went after the fake Horcrux, he'd been downright angry when Harry tried to convince him that Draco and Snape were up to something.

"We've discussed this, Harry," Dumbledore had said sounding stern. "I have told you my views."

When Harry had tried to protest further, the older wizard had silenced him immediately.

"Enough..." the Headmaster had warned him. "Please do not suggest I don't take the safety of my students seriously, Harry."

"I didn't," Harry had mumbled, a bit abashed, but Dumbledore cut across him.

"I do not wish to discuss the matter any further,"

Harry let the memory play out before him. He had to admit that what confused him most was that the things Dumbledore was getting after him for now, were the same things he had rewarded him for in the past. From his very first days at Hogwarts Harry had been ferreting out dangerous mysteries and solving them with the help of Ron and Hermione. Why hadn't the Headmaster punished him for going after the Sorcerer's Stone his first year, or even taking on the troll in the girl's bathroom? Hell, it should have been the Headmaster who introduced his arse to Gryffindor's sword when he returned with it from the Chamber after having battled the basilisk. _Well, that may be taking things a bit far_, Harry thought wryly. But in retrospect, the idea of a twelve year old racing around the bowels of the school after a bloody great snake without so much as an, "_I_ _was a bit worried_, _dear boy_..." from the old man, seemed a bit surreal. Instead Dumbledore awarded the house cup, medals for services to the school, and bloody, buggering lemon drops. He never gave any indication that Harry was behaving in any way other than how he should.

At least Snape was consistent. Even with him finding it difficult to dislike Harry as much as he once had, he was consistently snide and harsh. Harry still loved the Headmaster; things hadn't gone that far afield. But perhaps a stern word or two would be easier to take in stride now, if old man had done a bit more to rein him in years before. The only hint Harry could come up with as to the difference in the Headmaster's treatment of him was what the man had said when he got after him about going after Hufflepuff's cup alone.

"The time is past when we can allow you to rush headlong into any situation regarding the demise of Voldemort without sufficient planning, and consensus from Professor Snape or myself," the Headmaster had cautioned sternly via the Angelth.

_The time is past_..._Did that mean it was okay before but wasn't anymore? _Harry pondered. According to Snape it had never been okay, and he had always been after Harry for behaving as though the rules didn't apply to him. But how was Harry supposed to act when many of them didn't seem to? _Need to go out after curfew? Why don't you just hang on to this invisibility cloak then._ _Sorcerer's Stone you say? Have at it lad! Have at it! A bit of a jaunt around the Chamber? Here's a sword, dear boy; have fun!_ Maybe the Headmaster had his reasons. Maybe they were tests of a sort like with the fake Horcrux. But Harry knew he had little chance of learning the truth anytime soon. The Headmaster was just as evasive now as he ever was in life. Some things he would just have to figure out for himself the boy decided, as he reluctantly recalled the night the Headmaster died. As he contemplated the memory Harry now felt more attuned to the subtle differences. Whether they were tricks of memory or simple reality, the boy could hardly be sure. But in recalling the events of the night now, Harry felt certain the Headmaster had been begging Snape to kill him, and he was almost sure he saw a hint of anguish cloud the younger wizard's features before he was able to comply.

Not that Harry would soon get a straight answer from the old man on this. He might from Snape, the boy realized. But that was only if Snape was still alive. With a shuddering breath he leaned himself into the corner where he had hidden that night and released the clasp of the Angelth.

"Harry, my dear boy, how are you?" came the bright, kindly voice as though there had never been a harsh word between them. "It is so very good to speak to you," Harry was relieved by how sincere the man sounded. He had to stop himself from answering that he was _"wonderful_". For it was indeed wonderful to hear the Headmaster sounding like his old self again.

"Not so good sir," Harry answered instead, but Dumbledore went on as though he disagreed.

"That's not what I hear from Severus, my boy, not what I hear at all."

"You've spoken to Snape," Harry asked catching his breath.

"This morning as a matter of fact," the Headmaster continued in the same amiable tone. "_Professor_ Snape is very pleased with your progress thus far. He was very impressed with your mastery of the Occlumency technique you learned this morning."

"Oh..." Harry said with a frown, realizing Dumbledore didn't know. But the Headmaster misinterpreted the expression.

"Don't look so doubtful, Harry," he told the boy cheerfully. "I know, Severus isn't the best at expressing himself, but I assure you he was extremely pleased."

_He expresses himself fine,_ Harry almost found himself defending the man, which was slightly inconceivable. He stopped himself in time.

"It took Severus a month to master that method," The Headmaster continued. "However, he was often dealing with more complex emotions than you yourself face," the old man opined.

Harry thought back to the image of the Occlumency lesson. The Headmaster had thoroughly humiliated Snape in front of a room full of Gryffindors and Slytherins.

_Boy, I'll say,_ Harry thought. _It would have taken more than a bowl of ice cream, and a story about your brother snogging a goat for me to have forgiven you for that. _

"He was summoned _after_ he spoke to you Headmaster," Harry said his voice breaking slightly.

"Summoned?" The Headmaster asked, his expression growing alert. "Was he injured?"

"We don't know yet," Harry admitted. "He was summoned before the funeral but ordered me to go ahead. Moody received word that ten Death Eaters had escaped Azkaban this morning and one unidentified DE had been been killed by a disfigurement hex. I haven't heard from Snape since."

"I see. What steps are you considering taking in order to confirm that he is still alive?" the Headmaster asked, his tone serious.

Harry was confused for a moment. Steps? _Steps?_ The Headmaster had been clearly displeased with the steps he had taken to get Hufflepuff's cup. Dumbledore had said...Harry's eyes narrowed for a moment. He had said that Harry needed to have a plan and get it okayed by either himself or Snape. Suddenly Harry was awash with relief. He realized that most of his stress today had been about him thinking he would be forbidden to act. He thought he'd be made to sit on his hands. Apparently not only would he be allowed to act, the Headmaster expected it. A gleam suddenly lit the younger wizard's eyes, and he wasted no time telling the Headmaster about the cloaking spell he had learned from Dobby. He thought maybe he could get to Snape with the Angelth and cloak himself to find out what was going on.

The Headmaster vetoed the idea right away. And like Snape he tended to show a bit of irritation when he thought an idea wasn't very bright.

"You have not mastered this charm, correct?" the Headmaster asked sternly. "You have in fact only been able to replicate it once?" Who would have thought after all these years Snape and the Headmaster could sound so much alike? Of course he wasn't anywhere near as snide as Snape. But then again, Snape wasn't nearly as snide as he used to be. Harry thought back again to the Occlumency lesson and the dressing down he'd seen the Headmaster give Snape in the memory. That was easily something Snape would have done to Harry. Although he would have had Harry in his classroom cleaning cauldrons afterwards, instead of feeding him ice cream. Harry had an inkling that perhaps this was the first time he was actually seeing their true colors.

The Headmaster pointed out, in an unyielding tone, that if Snape had survived and was with Voldemort, Harry's plan would be far too dangerous. Harry didn't care that the Headmaster had shot down his first idea. At least Harry was getting to have his say. Fairly quickly they came up with the plan for Dobby to go in Harry's stead. There was apparently a way that bound elves could hone in on their Masters. The plan was for Dobby to find Snape and report back to Harry regarding his whereabouts and condition.

Harry closed the Angelth with a promise to keep the man posted. Dumbledore had given Harry leave to decide what information was pertinent to share with McGonagall.

As Harry was readying himself to go, Draco opened the Astronomy Tower door with a mighty bang. The blond wizard paced around angrily as Harry covertly watched him from much the same position he had the night Dumbledore was killed. Draco seemed easily as distraught as he had been that night, or at least as much as he had been that day in the toilet with Moaning Myrtle telling him not to cry. Harry had nearly been _Crucio'ed_ when he interrupted the boy that day, and had cursed Malfoy quite dangerously in return. He'd only meant to ask if the boy was all right, but had wound up nearly killing Draco and was sentenced to the balance of the year in detention for his trouble. Harry decided it was best to tread carefully this time and thought vaguely about trying Dobby's cloaking charm.

"Potter," the blond wizard sneered and Harry realized he had paused too long. "What are you doing here?" he demanded.

"Thinking," Harry said easily. He would do his best to keep things light.

"Must hurt, that," Draco insulted.

"It does a bit," Harry admitted, taking a different tack. "Good job not getting caught in any sappy sentimentality about my saving your arse recently by the way," he paused for a beat. "I was actually thinking about how one could get into Voldemort's lair and see if Snape is all right."

That got Malfoy's attention, although Harry knew things were far more complicated for the boy. He not only had to be worried about whether Snape was all right, but what his father's reaction would be once he learned Draco had defected. As Harry thought about this dilemma it made it hard to summon any hatred for the boy.

"What have you come up with so far?" Malfoy asked after a moment.

"Depends on what side you' re on these days," Harry returned easily.

"What would you know about it, Potter?" the boy said sneering again. "You haven't got a father!" he spat.

"True," Harry agreed. "But I _had_ a father," he sneered now a bit as well. "He was willing to die for what he thought was right."

"As is mine," Draco asserted, bearing himself up proudly.

"As is yours," Harry agreed. He hoped he caught the boy off guard by admitting this. "But I didn't decide to follow the same path as my father merely because it was _his_ path. I follow it because it feels right for _me_."

Draco stared at Potter a long minute.

"It must be hard," Harry said trying not to sound condescending. "Here you've had some doubts recently about the road you were on. And now your dad shows up and you must have doubts again."

When Draco remained silent, Harry continued.

"You don't want to disappoint him, and you don't want him to be mad at you, but still that has little to do with following what _you_ believe," Harry said. "And it's hard to be _completely_ sure if you're doing the right thing to go against him because he believes in what he's doing so strongly."

"Maybe you do know a bit of what it feels like to have a father," Malfoy admitted grudgingly.

"I wish I did," Harry admitted. "But here's where you're lucky," Harry said and paused a moment to make sure he had the boy's attention. "No matter how strongly your father feels, you have Snape's example to look to as well."

"If he's alive," Draco returned after a moment.

"If he's alive," Harry agreed.

"What have you got so far?" the boy asked again.

Harry told him in vague terms about house elves being able to hone in on their masters and the cloaking charm.

"But Snape doesn't own an elf, does he?" Malfoy questioned.

Harry had been apprehensive about mentioning Dobby as Snape had not revealed to the blond boy _where_ Harry would be learning the spells he would be teaching the DA and Draco this year.

Malfoy was still puzzling over the fact that Snape did not have an elf when he suddenly remembered.

"But you do don't you, Potter?" He said. "Sirius Black's elf, I heard from Mother. That might work," the boy said.

"I could use Kreacher?" Harry said, trying not to make it seem a question.

"He's here in the kitchens," Draco went on. "I've seen the beast," he said distastefully.

Harry noted vaguely that he would have bristled if Draco had spoken about Dobby that way. But Kreacher brought a bit of that on himself. He was always angry and unpleasant, and walked about muttering to himself. He was like the Argus Filch of the house elf world.

"All elves are linked indirectly to family members as well," Draco was saying.

"They are?" Harry asked picking up the thread of the explanation.

"House elves are a secure way to send messages among family," Draco affirmed. "So if you were to send your elf under this cloaking charm to find my Aunt Bellatrix..."

"He could wander around and see who else is there!" Harry said brightly as he got to his feet and made for the exit to the Tower.

Once in the kitchens, Harry was careful not to mention to Kreacher that his main interest was in Snape. He told the elf he was to look around and listen as much as he could safely. He mentioned specific names, but gave no indication as to one being more important than any other.

"You are not to reveal yourself to anyone. After you've given a listen to Bellatrix," Harry said with casual firmness, "peek in on Malfoy, Snape, and any one else you might be able to get safely near, and see if you can learn a bit of Voldemort's plans. Draco and Kreacher cringed at the use of Voldemort's name.

"Kreacher is no good at the cloaking charm, Master," the elf complained. "Foul Halfblood Master is making fun of Kreacher," the elf muttered to himself.

Harry wasn't sure the elf wasn't being deliberately difficult.

"Show me, Kreacher," Harry ordered.

Kreacher was able to cloak himself as Dobby could, all except his feet. Harry and Malfoy laughed as big cartoonish feet tramped noisily about the kitchen on their own.

"May Kreacher use the _Arachnid_ charm instead, Master?" Kreacher asked when he had decloaked and the laughter subsided. "Stupid Halfblood Master means to get Kreacher killed by the Dark Lord," the elf muttered loudly.

"_Arachnid_ charm?" Harry asked with interest.

"Yes, Master. Kreacher will turn himself into a spider, and you try to step on him."

Before Harry could protest, Kreacher had disappeared and a medium sized spider sat on the floor before him. Harry quirked an eyebrow at Draco. Mindful not hurt the bug, Harry raised the toe of his trainer just above the little spider, and was immediately thrown back painfully on his bum. If he hadn't known it was Kreacher, he might have assumed he just tripped.

Kreacher popped back into existence.

"Stupid Halfblood Master," he was saying as Harry got to his feet.

"Yes, Kreacher," Harry said ignoring the insult yet again. "Use that charm or any other you are sure will keep you safe. Go now, and report back to me before morning," he ordered.

"Yes, Master," Kreacher said with a slight bow. "Filthy Halfblood, Master," he said when his head was down, and then he disappeared.

"You shouldn't let your elf speak to you that way," Malfoy scolded in an appalled tone.

"He doesn't know I can hear him, I don't think," Harry said, chuckling a bit.

"But you _can_ hear him," Malfoy pointed out, clearly upset by the elf's behavior. "A wizard shouldn't be spoken to that way by an elf," he said haughtily.

"No?" Harry said, nicking a scone from a basket that had suddenly sparkled into existence with a pot of tea. "What should I do about it?"

Malfoy had numerous suggestions. While Harry didn't approve of any of them, several made him laugh.

While Harry munched on a second scone, he thought that he couldn't wait to have Dobby show him the _Arachnid_ charm. He wondered for a moment if the Headmaster would disagree with him sending Kreacher in Dobby's stead. He decided that he probably wouldn't care so long as Harry had not unnecessarily endangered himself. Harry had to admit that he was more willing to risk Kreacher than Dobby. Also, it would potentially be safer for Snape. If Kreacher were to be discovered, no one would be able to determine that the main goal was Snape.

"Do you want to go with me to report to the Headmistress?" Harry asked when they had polished of the scones.

"No, thank you, Potter," Malfoy responded stiffly.

"Why not?" Harry wanted to know.

"I am quite certain the Headmistress would appreciate visiting with one of her precious Gryffindolts alone," Draco insisted.

Harry cocked his head oddly to one side.

"Gryffindolts?" he asked quirking an eyebrow. "Is that what you lot call us?"

"Among other things," Draco acknowledged. "What do you call us?"

"Snakes," Harry said after thinking about it for a moment.

"Indeed, Potter," he said dryly. "We call ourselves that."

Harry shrugged.

"I suppose there is no need for derogatory pet names, when the name of the House itself is often said as though it were synonymous with filth." Draco said venomously.

Harry cocked his head to the side again as though he was a bit confused.

"This could be a long and interesting conversation," he said slowly. "And I'm not completely sure how it started..."

"Go ahead, Potter. I've seen the Headmistress once today; it was quite enough." Draco said haughtily. "She was kind enough to invite me up to her office to inform me of the prison break. I spoke to her a few minutes before I saw you on the Tower."

"Look, Malfoy," Harry began, thinking about how angry Draco had seemed when he arrived at the Tower. "I'm not sure what she said to you, but I am certain she was only trying to help."

"Oh, I'm certain she was too," Malfoy said flatly. "It was rather heartfelt, and something along the lines of 'Mr. Malfoy do you really wish to be a _Slytherin_ the rest of your life?'" He let out a rather mirthless laugh. "She said it as though it were a rather vile thing to aspire to."

Harry was silent for a moment, so he could choose his words with care.

"Malfoy I'm certain she didn't mean it the way it..." Harry began.

"No, I'm certain she didn't either, Potter," Malfoy said in the same detached tone. "No one at this bloody school ever does. It's just that sometimes I'm up to dealing with the stupidity and sometimes I am not."

"Well if you feel that way, I don't see why you saved her during the battle," Harry said thinking about how Malfoy had risked himself to protect the Headmistress on Privet Drive.

"Just because one is ignorant doesn't mean they deserve to die, Potter," Malfoy pointed out. "You don't have to be a Gryffindunce to figure that out."

"That's another one of those pet names, is it?" Harry asked mildly.

"Snape's favorite," Malfoy admitted.

"Pity he never used it in class," Harry intoned dryly. "It's a riot."

"Well, he couldn't risk insulting the precious lions so blatantly. The Headmaster and your Head of House never would have stood still for that." Malfoy purred.

"Are you mad?" Harry exploded incredulously. "Talk about putting a derogatory spin on a House name. Snape said the word Gryffindor like it was synonymous with moron. He couldn't risk insulting us?" Harry ranted. "All he ever did was take points and assign detentions. And he never did a bloody thing to you lot."

"Points are for sissies, Potter." Draco said in a bored tone. "Try cleaning all the castle toilets without magic in the middle of the night or being forced to work with the house elves for a month. Or how about his absolute favorite, the hundred-feet-of-parchment-torture?"

"Hundred feet of parchment?" Harry questioned.

"_I must not disgrace Slytherin House_," Malfoy quoted. " One hundred feet, and forced to report straight to your dorm room every night after dinner until it was done. Points, Potter?" Malfoy said again. "We _begged_ him to take points."

"But he never even acted like he was mad at you lot," Harry replied bewildered, though it didn't seem likely Malfoy was lying.

"Well, it never escaped our notice. We quickly learned to read those oh so subtle cues. Everything he even suspected us of in his classroom, and Merlin help us if we got in trouble with another teacher, was paid for dearly in this dungeon."

"On the surface it always seemed like he favored you." Harry really didn't know what to make of this revelation.

"He did, Potter," Malfoy said as though he were a bit slow. "He was trying to make up for us being treated like trash by the rest of the school, but that didn't mean he let us run around like a pack of unruly Gryffindimwitts."

"His?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, he loved that one," Malfoy acknowledged. "His rule was to never humiliate us in public, and he'd go straight dark wizard if we ever embarrassed _him_. That's why you hardly ever see us acting out in any class, but his."

"I never looked at it like you guys were being treated like trash by the rest of the school," Harry admitted.

"That's because you probably never considered it at all. People say bigoted things about Slytherins all the time and never give it a second thought. Like the myth that all dark wizard's are from Slytherin House," Malfoy spat. "Hell, there are thirteen Gryffs in the Dark Lord's circle right now, not to mention the Ravens and Huffs."

Harry was a bit taken back by that assertion. But he had to admit Malfoy was in a good position to know.

"Look you've given me a lot to think about," Harry admitted. "And I promise I _will_ think about it. But for now why don't you just come and report to McGonagall's with me," he said. "I'm sure she'll be pleased to hear how much you helped with the Kreacher thing..."

"I have no desire to please her, Potter," Draco said angrily. "I couldn't if I did have_. Do I always want to be a Slytherin_?" He mimicked. "As though that were wrong. As though she'd ever deign to view me as anything else."

"Fine," Harry returned hotly. "Come with me and throw it in her face, then. Show her she's wrong about Slytherin. Prove she's wrong to think the way she does." Harry wasn't sure why it was so important for the blond boy to come with him all of a sudden, but he was very relieved when Draco followed him from the kitchen.

"I was wondering when you would find your way up here," McGonagall observed sternly when the two younger wizards made their way into her office. "You arrived better than a forty minutes ago, Potter."

"I spent a few minutes discussing things with your old friend first," Harry pointed out, knowing she would pick up on the code.

"I see," she returned tartly as she ushered them into chairs. "Biscuit?" she said, offering some from a colorful floral tin.

"No, thank you, Headmistress," Malfoy replied.

At the same time Harry said, "Thanks," and stuck his hand into the can.

"We've only just consumed an enormous quantity of scones down in the kitchens," Malfoy explained, still addressing himself to McGonagall.

At the same time Harry said, "Ginger lemon," a bit defensively and popped the biscuit in his mouth.

Harry silently indicated that Malfoy should speak as his mouth was full.

With an arrogant sneer worthy of Snape, Draco spent the next a few minutes apprising McGonagall of the errand they had sent Kreacher on.

"Well," McGonagall said, her face a bit flushed by the time he was done. "It seems as though you two young men have things well in hand. Do keep me informed as to what you find out."

"But of course, Headmistress," Draco agreed with an slight incline of his head. The boy spun on his heel to go, and Harry could have sworn his cloak lifted five inches at the boot. Harry wondered vaguely if the Slytherins took billowing and swishing lessons from Snape.

Before Harry could make a dramatic exit with Malfoy, the Headmistress said she expected him to stay the night at the castle at least.

"I've already alerted several Order members as to the need for extra security here at the castle," she told him. I'd appreciate if you find somewhere to bunk in the dungeons as the extra security is for Mr. Malfoy as well, and I don't wish people to be spread too thin."

_**That night while Harry slept on Gregory Goyle's four-poster, he dreamt of the Riddle family graveyard where he had been portkeyed after the third Triwizard task. Instead of Cedric falling beneath Wormtail's wand, there were ten Death Eaters gathered around a cauldron. Voldemort slowly rose from it, and his wraith-like arms began to multiply and form the upper portion of a tree. The gnarled, arm-like branches seemed brittle with death. Voldemort's body formed the knot riddled trunk, and thin, skeletal feet stretched as claw-like toes dug deeper into the ground.**_

"_**Who will spread his remains?" it was Lucius Malfoy's voice and Harry realized with a start he was holding the little floral canister from McGonagall's office. "Severus had no next of kin," the blond man was saying.**_

"_**I'll do it." Harry began in a shaky voice "Unless you want to, Draco?" he asked the boy beside him, startling the assembled masked figures.**_

"_**I'm sure I couldn't manage, Potter," Draco said indicating the floral tin. "They might be ginger lemon." **_

"_**Potter," Lucius intoned in and oily voice. "But of course, " he proffered the floral tin to Harry who took it with a trembling hand. It was not ginger biscuits, but uneven gray ashes, and the boy began to spread them clumsily among the toe-like roots of the tree. The Voldemort tree began to bloom gray, wilted flowers that smelled of mold and sulfur. **_

"_**What are these flowers called?" Harry asked as he curled his nose in horror letting the canister tumble from his hand.**_

"_**Death Eaters," Lucius said with and evil grin, and he threw back his head and laughed.**_

Harry awoke in a cold sweat. Mindful not to wake Draco, he stumbled into the Slytherin Common Room. Making his way to one of the couches, he sat down and pulled his knees up to his chest. He took a few cleansing breaths and pushed the image of Lucius Malfoy, the Voldemort tree, and any thought that Snape was anything other than alive and well from his mind. The ghastly tree was proving a hard image to banish and Harry forced himself instead concentrate on the Weasley family tree, which had bloomed vibrant and beautiful flowers for Bill.

After Ginny had spread Bill's ashes at the funeral, Harry had wanted to approach her and offer what comfort he could, but the awkwardness of their brief relationship still hung heavily between them. Harry had tried to approach her earlier when she was with Ron. But his best friend needed him more. In an abrupt burst of grief, Ron had buried his head in Harry's chest and wept pitifully. Harry felt awed by the task of offering comfort to the boy, but soon found himself gently patting the heaving back even as Ginny stroked his red head. Ginny and Harry's eyes met, but their concern at the moment was Ron, as each did what they could to quell his anguish.

"Bill, " the red headed boy said again and again until he finally gained back a bit of control. And as one might distract an upset child, Harry asked the boy to tell him about the family tree.

Harry had finally screwed up the nerve to approach Ginny again as the circle around the tree began to break.

"What are they called, Gin?" he asked by way of opening indicating the flowers that had bloomed for Bill. They smelled richly of honey.

"I dunno," the girl said, and although her eyes were red rimmed, she sported that same easy smile Harry had fallen for. "But they look a bit like the ones that bloom for my Great Aunt Tessie." Harry thought of of Ron. The red headed boy had complained pathetically that he looked like a Great Aunt Tessie in his dress robes third year. Ginny and Harry shared a laugh and then their eyes misted slightly, as they had come together for a brief hug before the twins came to drag him away to torture Percy. And Harry realized there were some things he wouldn't be able to recapture.

Harry pushed himself up sleepily from the couch in the Slytherin Common Room and made his way to the boy's toilets. After splashing water on his face for the third time, Harry was ready to return. Upon exiting he heard voices approaching, and an instinct of self-preservation made him push himself into a dark corner. Harry decided quickly that his instinct may have been in error, when he found himself an unwilling eavesdropper on a very private conversation between Remus and Tonks.

"It won't work between us, love," Remus was saying gently. "You know I've tried to see it your way."

"No, I guess it won't," Tonks said sounding tearful. "I've tried for over a year. I guess I'm beginning to understand it will never work for _you_."

"I wouldn't hurt you for the world, Tonks," Remus whispered kindly.

"Too late," she intoned, her words playful and poignant both.

"I'll just make my way down to the other end, shall I?" Remus said, and after a few moments Harry heard his footsteps receding.

After a few more moments of silence, Tonks' footsteps moved off a bit as well, and Harry was able to sneak unobserved back into the Common Room. _What a fool Remus is_, Harry thought a bit angrily. _Why would anyone do that to Tonks_?. Harry had developed an immediate liking for the woman the first time he had seen her, and if he was honest it was a bit of a crush. Unlike with Ginny, any secret dream of Tonks, rather than being something he couldn't recapture, was something he could never hope to attain.

Harry made his way back to the dorm room, and this time he did wake up Malfoy with the startled scream he emitted as he opened the door. He couldn't help it really, as Kreacher had startled him by popping into the room just as Harry entered.

"Filthy Halfblood Master, Mr. Malfoy," the elf said with a formal bow. "Kreacher is ready to make his report."

"Let me hex him for you, Potter," Malfoy said coming to wakefulness. "You can't believe he's not aware of what he's saying."

"I think he's a nutter, Malfoy," Harry said impatiently. "Lets get his report first."

"Filthy Halfblood Master might allow young Mr. Malfoy to punish Kreacher properly," the elf muttered warily. "Kreacher had better mind his tongue."

Harry had to stop Malfoy from drawing his wand.

"Take it easy, Malfoy," Harry said restraining the boy. "What do I care? I'm not a Halfblood anyway. Both my parents were magical. Though my mother was a Muggleborn. What does that make me?" Harry asked the blond boy sincerely.

"Ridiculous," Malfoy said by way of answer. "Now tell your elf to proceed," he ordered haughtily.

Harry sat down on the edge of Goyle's four-poster.

"Proceed, Kreacher," Harry commanded, trying to match Malfoy's tone.

_**Hope you enjoyed it! Don't forget to review!**_

_**The end of this chapter has been altered slightly since it was first posted.**_

**Chapter 27**

**The Age of Independence**

"I'm not sure where Potter is, sir," Draco responded more loudly than there was need. It did nothing to drown out the sound of giggles that emitted from the girls dormitory.

"What's going on here, Mr. Malfoy? Lupin asked sternly as he gave the locked door a tug.

"Please, sir," Malfoy said, putting himself between Lupin and the door, "I wouldn't go in there if I were you."

"Alohomora," Lupin commanded, shifting Draco to one side.


	27. The Age Of Independence I

**Disclaimer: **J.K. and Warner Bros. own them

**Authors Notes: **Man! It's been over two months. Is anyone still out there? Hello...? My apologies for the ridiculously long hiatus. A financial setback had me too bummed out to write. I probably should be extremely contrite, and I am, but I'm also excited to be posting again. Thanks for taking the time to read this chapter. I hope it's not too hard to remember where the story left off after so long. There was a prison break at Azkaban. Sev's missing and maybe dead. Kreacher is about to report to Harry and Malfoy on what he saw in Voldie's lair.

I was reading an awesome fic while I was away sulking. It's **A Year Like No Other** over at skyhawkedotnet, by **Aspen in the Sunlight**. It is a Snape/Harry/Draco, mentor/father fic, and I highly recommend it, even if you are not sulking.

**excessivelyperky? **Yeah, she rocks! And she gets full credit for suggesting Harry lose control of his wand before he began his...er...duel with Tonks at the end of this chapter. Many thanks for your insight and suggestions. You're awesome!

**Enjoy**

**Chapter 27**

**The Age of Independence I**

The most useful thing about Kreacher's report was the information that Voldemort had ordered all of his servants to remain sequestered in the hideout. Plans were being developed on how to best use the talents and manpower of his newly reunited Death Eaters to get Harry Potter and gain a strong hold in the Ministry. No one would be allowed to leave the lair without the Dark Lord's express permission until further notice.

After conveying that important bit of intelligence, Kreacher's report became more form than substance as he went on about how regal Madame Lestrange was. He fairly gushed over what a credit she was to the Most Noble Ancient House of Black. When he started in on how very much she reminded him of his former mistress, Harry started to get nauseous, and Malfoy rolled his eyes. At approximately the same moment they both cast a _Legillimens_ at the elf.

"Sorry," Harry said, as he felt himself bump into Malfoy's consciousness when he tried to enter the Kreacher's mind.

"No, no. I beg your pardon, Potter. He's your elf," Draco said, sounding a tad embarrassed. "I'll just run to the loo while you have a look," the blond boy said as he slipped on a pair of hard-soled leather slippers and a silky Slytherin green housecoat.

**_When Harry reentered Kreacher's mind, he saw Bellatrix Lestrange putting Lucius Malfoy under the _Cruciatus_ Curse. She held it for a full minute, looking positively rapturous at the sound of his screams. The witch gave Voldemort a little curtsy before retaking her place in the circle, and the evil bastard rewarded her with an approving nod._**

"_**How are you enjoying your punishment thusss far Luciusss?" Voldemort addressed the badly twitching wizard. "We have only begun. There are many more delightsss to come."**_

"_**I live to serve my lord," Malfoy returned in a raspy voice. **_

"**_I'm heartened to hear it," Voldemort said dismissively. "Ah, Severusss, I think next," he said addressing the tall, dark wizard. "I ssso enjoyed the _Fisssure_ hex you cast on Goyle."_**

_**Harry's heartbeat quickened almost painfully at the sight of the man alive and well. He watched Snape, looking not at all worse for wear, approaching a prone Malfoy on the stone floor. Harry wondered for a moment if Snape would have any reservations about torturing Malfoy Sr. That notion was quickly put to rest as Snape raised his wand.**_

"**Knout_," the man incanted, and a magical version of the medieval torture device, complete with spiky metal barbs, began to thrash Lucius down the front of his body. Malfoy emitted a startled scream as the crude whip and silvery barbs of the hex approached his face, and he threw himself onto his belly. He flipped himself back and forth several times trying in vain to escape the agony. Severus held the curse until Malfoy's screams had began to sound like piteous sobs before he finally canceled the spell. But Snape was not done. Stepping close, he grabbed Malfoy roughly by the throat, and held the gray gaze for half a minute. The wails the blond wizard emitted then made the anguished cries brought on by the _Knout_ hex sound tame in comparison. Severus disdainfully released him with a shove toward the floor and began to return to his place in the circle. _**

"_**Deiciousssly sssevere, my Severusss," Voldemort smiled appreciatively. "Please tell me, what was that last ssspell?"**_

"_**No spell at all my lord," Severus informed him. "I simply showed Lucius one of the many images of you chastising young Draco."**_

"**_And thiss caused Luciusss to react in sseemingly more pain than the thrashing of your most impressive _Knout_..." the Dark Lord said in confusion. "You must tell me Ssseveruss how you knew it would have thisss effect..."_**

"_**I guessed, my lord," Severus informed him humbly. "But I am glad my lord found it pleasing."**_

"_**There is perhapss more to it than that. I believe it possible to be more tormented by sseeing a loved one tortured than if one is ssuffering themselvess," Voldemort mused proudly, as though he were sharing a previously undiscovered formula. "I believe I have sseen evidence of this in Muggles. And perhapss it iss what made that Mudblood Evanss so desperate to protect her whelp." Voldemort gave Snape an assessing gaze. "We will discusss thiss further Severuss. But later, after we have enjoyed ourselvesss fully," he amended heartily, gesturing grandly for Severus to join his fellows. **_

"_**Your servant, my lord," Snape intoned as he took his place in the circle.**_

Harry exited Kreacher's mind as though from a dream, thoroughly sickened by Voldemort's mention of his mum. The bit with him questioning if someone suffered more when a loved one was hurt was just plain weird. _Who the bloody hell doesn't understand that? _Harry thought quizzically.

Draco had returned from the loo, but Harry wasn't sure whether he should let him view the memory himself or simply tell him that Snape and his father were all right. Well, strictly speaking, Malfoy Sr. wasn't all right. And it looked like he had a long night ahead of him yet. Something in Harry's expression must have given away his indecision because after a moment, Draco spoke.

"What is it Potter?" he asked a tad anxiously, pulling his robe more tightly around his body "Is Snape..."

"He's fine, actually..." Harry began uncertainly, making note that Draco seemed more worried about Snape than his father. Before he could say more, Malfoy had his wand out.

"_Legillimens_," Draco intoned, pointing his wand at Kreacher, and his eyes took on an unfocused look. He took about five minutes to view the full memory and Harry made note that he didn't seem overly damaged by the experience.

"Well, Snape seems fine," the blond boy drawled. "I've seen my father look better though."

Harry wanted to ask if Malfoy was okay, but didn't reckon their trust extended that far yet.

"I guess Voldemort is really furious at them for getting sent to Azkaban," Harry ventured after a bit.

"I expect Father can handle it," Malfoy opined with a shrug. "Merlin knows he's used that _Knout_ hex on me often enough.

"Your father has used _that_ hex on you?" Harry asked in horror.

"It usually wasn't_ that _severe," Malfoy returned defensively. "When he used it here at school he'd cast a silencing spell on Snape's office, and it was just a six of the best sort of thing when I got poor marks or..." the blond boy clamped his mouth shut with a horrified sounding snap and donned a look of angry embarrassment. He speared Harry with a glare, as though he had somehow been tricked into revealing something so personal.

"When the hell have you ever gotten poor marks?" Harry asked in dismay, ignoring Draco's embarrassment. "You do almost as well as Hermione," he asserted.

"I believe that was Father's point as well," the blond responded haughtily. "What the hell would you know about it Potter, raised by _Muggles_ as you were?" he sneered.

Harry thought about that. If Uncle Vernon had been a wizard, Harry was certain he would have obtained first hand knowledge of the effects of the _Cruciatus_ before age eleven. He considered telling Malfoy this, but thought better of it.

"Well, at least Snape's alive," he said instead. "Now all we have to do is hope he can find a way to contact us." As if on cue, a tawny owl shot from the floo and came to land gracefully on Draco's bed.

"You guys have fireplaces in your dorm rooms?" Harry asked having somehow failed to notice the hearth earlier.

"How else would we get mail down here, Potter?" Malfoy sneered, as though he thought Harry was incredibly dense. "No windows, you'll note." Draco led the bird to a perch in the corner and offered it an owl treat. Unfurling the parchment, he began to read silently. After scanning it once more he looked up at Harry and began to read aloud.

_Dragon,_

_I don't know if you heard yet, but our dads are out. Mum got an owl from mine earlier today. I'm not sure how much is safe to put in this letter or if your mail is being checked by McGonagall. Mum says you are at Hogwarts and You-Know-Who is plenty ticked. Professor Snape and your dad reckon you're being held hostage, but YKW isn't buying it. My dad has summoned me and I'm supposed to come to him on August 1st. I'm pretty sure he's going to make me take the Mark, and I don't know what the bloody hell to do. If you're not being held or anything, could you clear it with McGonagall and see if it would be all right if I came and talked to you? Even if you are being held, I'd still like to speak with you. I'm scared Dragon. I never was cut out for the shite our dads and the others get up to. Let me know, all right mate? You know I won't betray you._

_Your mate,_

_Goyle_

_P.S. If that Potter git is there too, the arrogant little sod had better stay put because YKW is dead serious about getting his arse this time. If that Gryffingit knows what's good for him he'd better do some serious training as well. _

"When you write him back you can tell your little friend thanks for the message" Harry said a trifle indignantly. "_Gryffingit_? How many of those idiotic names do you lot have for us?"

"That one's new," Draco replied.

"New is it?" Harry responded a hotly. "Well, right after you tell him you're not falling for his pathetic trap, you can tell that fat-headed Goyle to take his advice shove it up his fat..."

"The note isn't from Greg," Draco interrupted.

"What?" Harry asked his anger giving way to confusion. "Whadaya mean it's not from Goyle?

"I'm fairly sure it's from Snape," Draco continued.

"What?" Harry asked again dumbly, as he took the parchment from Malfoy's outstretched hand. He read over the note, moving his lips slightly and frowning as he went. "Why do you think it's from Snape?" he wanted to know.

"My friends don't call me Dragon," Draco explained. "The only one who ever does is Snape. He started it when I was little."

Harry shook his head even as he digested this new bit of information. "It still might be a trap," he insisted. "Others know he calls you that..."

"He rarely does these days and only it in private. No one knows..." Draco interrupted.

"Except your father, for example," Harry cut him off. "This could be a trick to get you back to Voldemort."

"My father didn't look in any shape to be hatching plans," Draco retorted.

"We only saw a fraction of what went on tonight," Harry insisted. "Kreacher," he said, as he turned back to the elf, "Did Voldemort give Lucius Malfoy any orders regarding Draco?"

"Kreacher heard nothing Master," the elf informed Harry and then intoned in a silky sotto voice. "Foul half-blood Master dares to speak his name. The Dark Lord will soon make the filthy whelp pay. Yes."

Harry had been forcing himself to ignore or laugh off Kreacher's comments up to this point, but this remark made a thrill of cold fear ripple down his spine. His thoughts turned immediately to how the treacherous little sod had lied to him about Sirius the night he was killed. He'd lied and gotten information to the opposing side like some miniature mutant Death Eater. Harry was contemplating wrapping his hands around the elf's neck and slowly increasing the pressure, when Kreacher let out a startled squeak of pain. Harry quickly determined the source when he saw Malfoy's angry expression as the blond wizard brandished his wand.

"Why don't you go bang your head against that wardrobe, and then apologize to your Master, you fetid little beast," Malfoy ordered in an enraged tone as he pointed his wand to a dark wooden wardrobe in the corner.

"Malfoy..." Harry was uncertain what he was about to say. He wanted nothing more than to bang Kreacher's head against the hard wood himself.

"Don't argue that it's fine, Potter! It is most certainly not fine," Malfoy returned. "I'll not have an _elf_ threaten a wizard in my presence. Now, move!" Malfoy ordered again as Kreacher looked at him in disgruntled defiance. "Potter, tell your elf to obey me, or by Merlin I'll make him," Malfoy threatened

Harry really wanted to see what cleverly cruel hexes Malfoy might come up with to make the elf comply, but he tried to rein in the darkness that was threatening to overtake him.

"Do as he says, Kreacher," Harry ordered sternly.

Kreacher gave Harry a disdainful glare as he made his way to the wardrobe and banged his head half-heartedly against it.

"My apologies, Master," Kreacher said. He walked back to stand before Harry and executed a scornful bow.

Malfoy seemed to be having none of it.

"Oh, I'm sure you can do better than that," Draco opined angrily as he bounced from the bed and grabbed the elf by one floppy ear. He gave Kreacher a few solid kicks, his slipper leaving black smudge marks on the back of the crisp white tea towel. It was all too reminiscent of Lucius Malfoy and Dobby. Kreacher looked frightened as the blond wizard loomed over him and the elf began banging his head in earnest while tentatively squawking.

"Bad...Kreacher. Bad Kreacher?"

Harry felt he should tell him to stop; if it had been Dobby he would have. But he was suddenly enveloped in the same darkness that he had let himself succumb to when he was tormenting Filch while he had the man under the _Petrificus_ his last night at Hogwarts. There was some dark portion of his mind that reveled in seeing the creepy little elf get a bit of what was coming to him. But this time Harry didn't have Hermione to tell him to stop, so he near lost himself in the mesmerizing cadence as bone hit wood again and again.There was no Hermione to tell him to stop and no Snape to caution him against it.

He shook his head trying to clear it. True, Snape wasn't here, but if he found out about this he would be furious with Harry for letting his dark thoughts rule him this way. Harry tried his best to dismiss that thought as hypocritical rubbish. After all, he had just seen an image of Snape torturing the hell out of Lucius Malfoy_. He couldn't very well refuse though could he? _Harry reasoned_. And he might have used that particular hex to pay Lucius back for using it on Draco. It adds up with him showing him memories of Voldemort's torture sessions with Malfoy. _This line of reasoning was interrupted by the memory of the of the Potions Master's rather stern admonishment that his and Harry's roles in this war were completely different. It was the ultimate do-as-I-say-not-as-I-do.

Harry tried to force himself to think of the effect the darkness must be having on his magical receptors. He watched in satisfaction as a shiny dark green knot began to form on Kreacher's head, and he heard Malfoy order the elf to begin slapping his ears back as well. Harry tried to say it was enough, but the dark pleasure had taken hold, and it was immensely satisfying to see the putrid little traitor slap himself silly between bangs of his large head. Harry admired Kreacher's coordination as he drank in the little whimpers the elf had begun to emit. Taking a deep breath and shaking himself again, Harry tried to employ the Occlumency technique Snape had taught him earlier. But he hated Kreacher's guts and couldn't come up with a positive image to overlay the negative one with. He tried to focus on the elf's loyalty to his mistress, much as Snape had done with Sirius' loyalty to Lupin. However, it didn't work because from Harry's experience with her portrait, the Black family matriarch had been a strident old cow and Kreacher comparing her to that bitch Bellatrix only reinforced that image.

Harry watched as the elf viciously slapped his own ears. His _Bad Kreacher_ sounded terribly contrite now. _It isn't like the little sod doesn't deserve it; I just wish I wasn't enjoying it so much, _Harry thought. The boy shocked himself by emitting a choked laugh as the huge green ears took on a pinkish tinge as they flew back and forth with the force of the slaps. Harry determined that he had better practice his Occlumency diligently before he next saw Snape, because the man would most likely be livid if he ever found out about his delight in a scene such as this.

However, when Harry gave it some thought, he realized things had grown more complicated than that. On the surface he might be worried about Snape's wrath, but if he dug just a bit deeper, Harry knew he was much more concerned that he might disappoint the man. The thought was extraordinarily confusing, and a bit embarassing as well, that _he_ should be concerned about disappointing Snape. The caustic blaze of Snape's most scathing lecture suddenly paled under the realization that the Potions Master might now expect better of him.

Finally, it was thinking of Snape that allowed Harry to push away the dark emotions. Feeling a bit soft doing so, Harry forced himself to think of the almost affectionate way the man had bid him good night when Harry had written _I am a servant of the light, I am a child of the light, I am light_. He stopped thinking about how much trouble he would be in if the older wizard found out about his cruelty. Instead he concentrated on the gentle concern he had shown Harry after the nightmare and even the angry insistence when he ordered him to the Burrow. Harry focused on how proud the man had seemed when Harry had been successful with the Occlumency technique. Even Dumbledore had said Snape had been pleased. Harry cast his memory back to the warm steady hand on his shoulder and the sternly uttered _well done_ when they had finished the lesson. He let himself be bathed in the feeling of it as he overlaid these images above his anger for Kreacher.

"That will do Kreacher," Harry was finally able to tell the elf, his voice sounding almost kind. It was as though he could finally draw breath after far too long in dark murky waters. The elf gave one furtive look at Malfoy before approaching Harry. His eyes were wide like Dobby's, instead of their usual, suspicious squint.

"Kreacher is sorry, Master," the elf said his voice catching slightly as he sniffled wetly.

"That's fine, Kreacher," Harry said still sounding kind "However, you are to watch how you speak from here on," he instructed.

The elf nodded its head adamantly, its pinkish green ears flapping back and forth.

"Good," Harry said in a level tone, though he failed to believe the elf had a change of heart. Harry realized suddenly he might have taken a chance sending Kreacher to Voldemort's lair. He probably should have cleared sending him instead of Dobby with the Headmaster. Yet another thing to worry about getting told off for later. Harry's musings were interrupted by a the arrival of Dobby giving everyone a mighty start. It was as though Harry's thoughts had summoned the little creature.

"Disgusting free elf," Kreacher spat, his usual rancor returning as he gave Dobby a haughty glare.

Dobby gave him quite a disapproving look in return.

"Master Harry Potter, sir," he greeted Harry happily. "It is safe to speak?" Dobby asked, eying Kreacher and Malfoy distrustfully.

"Go, Kreacher," Harry told the elf.

Kreacher departed with his usual sotto voice commentary, but the only discernible words were a repetition of _poor Kreacher_ amid wet sniffles.

"What have you heard, Dobby?" Harry said, nearly as anxious as the elf.

"Are you being sure, Master Harry sir?" Dobby said, giving Draco a look that clearly spoke of distrust. "What about naughty ex-Master Draco?"

"Yeah, he's fine, Dobby," Harry told him. "Go ahead."

Dobby looked doubtful.

"Him is not a very _nice_ wizard, Master Harry sir," the squeaked plaintively.

"How many house elves do you own these days, Potter?" Draco sneered. "Shall I teach this one some manners as well?" he said pulling out his wand.

"No," Harry said quickly. "I'll handle Dobby."

"You're sure, Potter," Malfoy asked fingering his wand. "Dobby and I go way back."

"Bugger off, Malfoy! You've had your fun," Harry said hotly and was immediately ashamed. It was he who enjoyed Kreacher's suffering much more than he should have.

"I'll have a say as to how I'm spoken to by elves in my own dorm room," Malfoy returned haughtily. "I'll have a say about how I'm spoken to by wizards as well."

"Well I don't need to stay in your bloody dorm room do I?" Harry responded angrily. "It's a big dungeon. I could move across the hall have a dorm room to myself."

"You can move across the common room to the girls for that matter, Potter," Malfoy told him disinterestedly. "Have a whole dorm wing to yourself."

"I believe I will," Harry agreed tossing what few items he had unpacked back in his knapsack. "It tops staying here with someone who gets off on torturing house elves," Harry asserted in a disgusted tone. It was painfully more self-disgust than he was comfortable with.

"Fine," Malfoy responded

"Good," Harry returned, and got to his feet. After a brief pause he turned to Dobby. "What do you have to report, Dobby?"

"If you are being sure Master Harry, sir?" the elf said.

"Reasonably," Harry admitted and shrugged his shoulders with an in-for-a-penny-in-for-a-pound expression. It occurred to him he hadn't cleared with the Headmaster that he was sharing all this information with Malfoy either. Harry wondered how much of this he might be called on the carpet for later. "Go ahead, Dobby,"

Unlike Kreacher's report, Dobby's was full of useful information. It confirmed Malfoy's suspicion that the owl he had received was indeed from Snape. The Potions Master had gone to the brewing lab on the pretext of improving upon the quick-brew Polyjuice potion they kept in store. He assured Voldemort he wished to make his impersonation of Goyle as convincing as possible, and had recently been pondering some improvements that could be made to the formula. Once he set up his cauldrons, he cast wards and silencing charms and summoned Dobby. He informed the elf that he had been ordered to impersonate Goyle and attempt to lure Potter and Malfoy to the Apparition boundary near Hogwarts so they could be captured. The capture was to take place on July 31st, Harry's birthday.

Dobby wrung his hands nervously as he delivered the news, while Draco fingered his wand as though daring the little creature to put a toe out of line. Harry, for his part, tried to placate then both.

"So far so good, Dobby. The letter proves Snape wanted Malfoy included," Harry told the elf. "You were dead to rights about that letter," Harry said to the blond wizard. "We'll inform McGonagall before we draft a response." Draco donned a look that Harry thought meant he knew he was being patronized, and Harry gave him an embarrassed little shrug.

Snape was to come a few days before Harry's birthday, disguised as Goyle, Dobby reported. And through Draco, he was to encourage a gathering for Harry's coming of age, if such an event was not already planned. In the natural diversion that would be brought on by the gathering, Snape was to inspire the boys to mischief as only befitting a wizard reaching the age of independence. He was to lure both boys away from their keepers and into the waiting arms of Death Eaters at the Apparition barrier. Snape had instructed Dobby to go to Harry and inform him, and make sure the coded message he sent Malfoy was understood. Snape especially wanted to make certain Harry was clear on the bit about remaining at Hogwarts for the present and continuing with his training. Harry thought back to the wording of the postscript. It said if Harry knew what was good for him, he'd do some serious training. That did sound like Snape, now Harry thought of it.

"Well that's it then," Harry said repositioning his knapsack on his shoulder and preparing to go. "We'll finish getting things sorted in the morning."

"Which is a few hours from now," Malfoy pointed out as he rolled over to punch his pillow into a more comfortable lump. "Be sure to take your elf with you so I won't be tempted to hex him," he threatened without rancor. "The first thing I want hear about is this training. We may as well do it together as you were supposed to teach me the spells you learned to pass on to the Slytherins. This will put us ahead of the game when the school year starts."

"Makes sense," Harry said, one side of his mouth quirking upward. "But you have to be sure to be respectful of our instructor."

"Who's our instructor?" Malfoy asked quizzically .

"You just ordered him from your room and threatened to hex him," Harry informed him.

Draco sat up straight.

"A house elf? You're being trained by a house elf?" he asked incredulously.

"Was that _arachnid charm_ or was it not the coolest thing you have ever seen?" Harry asked with a smile.

"You can teach us that?" Malfoy asked Dobby, his mouth slightly agape.

Dobby looked from one wizard to the other.

"_Arachnid charm_? Oh yes, indeed. Dobby can teach. Tomorrow, Master Harry?"

Harry raised a challenging eyebrow at the boy, and an uncharacteristic grin split Malfoy's pale visage.

"See you in the morning," Draco said, still grinning faintly as he prepared to roll over again.

"Do I need a spell to get into the girls dorm or anything?" Harry asked as he made his way to the door.

"You only need to be invited in by a girl," the blond Slytherin told him. "But since none are here you just walk in."

As it turned out there was a girl in the dorm, and she was sitting on the couch in the hallway crying.

The outer door was locked when Harry tried it, but it was spelled open easily with an Alohomora. There was an invisible barrier that kept him from walking across the threshold, but he could see the bright hair and tear stained face from where he stood.

"You all right, Tonks?" Harry asked tentatively from the open door.

He had only meant to comfort her, but the night quickly produced several kisses that were slightly more than chaste. Soon it was she who needed to comfort him. It was tragic really, given one of his boyhood dreams was on the verge of coming true.

"It's all right, Harry," she said, running a hand over his messy raven head and pulling it to her breast. "It happens to lads your age. Especially on their first go."

With and audible groan, Harry attempted to pull away from her.

"Hush. It's okay," she said comfortingly, and held him fast as she cast a quick cleaning charm. "But perhaps it is a sign we shouldn't be doing this."

"It might be a sign we should have done it faster," Harry quipped, his voice muffled from its place between her breasts. "But I'd hate for you to regret anything, Tonks," he told her soberly, voice still muffled.

"Would you regret it Harry?" she asked, pulling up his chin to look him in the eye.

"You've got be joking?" he asked, his face still red, but a slight grin playing at the edge of his mouth. "I dunno... but I guess we shouldn't...right? We shouldn't?" He asked, almost pleading with her to disagree.

"Right..." Tonks said with a sigh. "We shouldn't."

Harry sighed as well. In the end, he settled for holding her, or _her_ holding him. Those breasts were mighty comfortable, so long as he reminded himself every so often to behave. Mostly they talked about Remus.

The morning somehow found them in a fit of giggles, as Harry rushed to get dressed before they were found out. Although nothing had _really_ happened they were fairly certain their story might be a hard sell.

-888-

Draco Malfoy had hardly slept a wink as his mind ran excitedly over the possibilities of the _arachnid charm_. He had never known wizards could learn magic from house elves. Of course he knew they were powerful, but he wasn't aware they knew such spells. Draco hoped they could learn the _cloaking charm_ as well, the charm Kreacher hadn't been able to manage. Both charms could prove invaluable in battle. Draco made his way across the common room to the girls dorm intent on asking Potter just how soon they could begin.

When he approached the door, he was puzzled to find it locked and even more surprised to hear the sound of laughter from within. Slightly more shocking still was the fact that one of the voices was distinctly female.

Malfoy's musings over what to make of this discovery were interrupted by Remus Lupin entering through the common room door.

"Ah, good morning Mr. Malfoy. I don't suppose you've seen Ms. Tonks this morning," he asked amiably.

"Tonks...Nymphadora?" Malfoy asked dumbly. "Ah, no sir."

"Hmm," Remus intoned running a hand through his graying brown hair. "Is Harry about then? Breakfast is in the Great Hall today. I could walk down with him when he's ready."

"I'm not sure where Potter is, sir," Draco responded more loudly than there was need. It did nothing to drown out the sound of giggles that emitted from the girls dormitory.

"What's going on here, Mr. Malfoy? Lupin asked sternly as he finally caught the sound. He approached the girls dorm and gave the locked door a tug.

"Please, sir," Malfoy said, putting himself between Lupin and the door, "I wouldn't go in there if I were you."

"Alohomora," Lupin commanded, shifting Draco to one side.

It was Potter who responded first as Lupin bounced against the barrier looking almost feral.

"Remus take it easy! It's not what you think," Potter said standing up as he did up the zipper on his jeans. Draco noticed he said it with the kind of desperation one might have when confronted with an angry manticore.

"How would you know what I think, blast you!" Lupin bellowed. "You get yourself out here young man and I'll show you what I think," the werewolf said as he bounced of the barrier yet again.

"Remus, for goodness sake calm down and come in, " Tonks said in what sounded like an exasperated tone. "You're making an arse of yourself."

Lupin rushed forth and rounded on Potter. Malfoy made note that the younger wizard tried not to flinch.

"Remus, if you'd just calm down for a minute... nothing happened really," Potter said patting the air in front of him.

"Don't you dare tell me to calm down, Harry Potter! And don't insult my intelligence by lying. I wouldn't have believed it of you, Tonks. Of either of you. He's just a child," Lupin said turning toward Tonks. "I'm disappointed, frankly," he said, looking overly so.

"Get out!" Tonks screamed, and Lupin was swept from his feet and out into the common room where he landed with a loud thud. Malfoy suppressed a grin at the look on Potter's face as he discovered what happened when a male was uninvited from the Slytherin girl's dormitory.

Tonks gathered herself up and quickly made her way out of the dorm and to the common room. "You're pathetic!" She shot over her shoulder at Lupin before making her way through the door. "You're too bloody scared to admit you love me, yet you couldn't stand the thought of me with someone else." The portrait closed behind her with a bang.

"Well," Lupin glared at Potter while scrambling to his feet. "What have you got to say for yourself?"

"Only that I'm not a child," Potter said mildly. "I wasn't a child all those years living with the Dursleys. And I certainly haven't been a child all these years at school battling and being possessed by Voldemort."

Malfoy suppressed a gasp. _Possessed by Volde...?_

"You aren't of age, Harry," Lupin said in a stern scolding tone. "And there are definite rules about underage wizards and full grown witches. Now I know you've always had a crush on Tonks. It's been plain for anyone who knows you to see..."

"I'm as good as of age!" Potter retorted getting angry now. "And what business is it of yours anyway? You broke up with Tonks. You hurt her, Remus," Potter said stridently. "She's is only twenty three. As far as I'm concerned you're too old for her."

Draco didn't even see the hex coming. The well aimed _lasso hex_ pulled Potter from the common room and up through the castle towards McGonagall's office.

"As good as are you?" Lupin taunted angrily as he towed a struggling Potter behind. "By my reckoning you're still a week and a half away from the age of independence. And you are still a student at this school. We we'll see what the Headmistress has to say about your inappropriate behavior."

"Actually I'm not a student here anymore. Not to mention it's summer time, you ruddy git!" Potter roared, causing Lupin to cast a Silencio. Malfoy followed the pair through the empty halls. There was a time he would have paid a sack of Galleons to see Potter in a jam like this. Now here he was watching the show for free.

Lupin removed both hexes when they entered McGonagall's office.

"Well," he prompted Potter. "What do you have to say to the Headmistress?"

"Frankly, Remus, I don't see that this concerns the Headmistress. No offense ma'am," Potter said to McGonagall, who inclined her head and raised a questioning eyebrow. "If anything it's your own personal business and I shouldn't think you'd want it aired publicly."

"Privacy be damned, Harry," Lupin said angrily. "You and Tonks crossed the line and I won't sit still for it," Lupin crossed his arms as though he would wait all day if necessary.

"Harry," McGonagall prompted.

"At about four this morning Draco and I decided the dungeon was plenty big enough for us to each have our own wing, so I decided to bunk over in the girls," Potter began. "When I got there I found Tonks upset over a converstion she had with Remus. I stayed with her for the next few hours and comforted her."

"I see," McGonagall said tentatively. "Was there anything else?" She asked looking from Potter to Lupin.

"No, I think that about covers it," Potter said casually.

"That most certainly does not cover it," Lupin said waspishly. "You were putting on your trousers when I arrived. Do you think I'm a fool?"

"Yes," Potter said plainly.

"Harry!" McGonagall scolded.

"He asked, ma'am," Potter shrugged. "Personally I agree with Tonks too. He's a bit pathetic and afraid to admit he loves her. Doesn't deserve her if you ask me..."

"You were putting on your _trousers_!" Lupin repeated stridently.

"It was four in the morning! When I came in I was in my pajamas, wasn't I?" Harry returned with equal force. "And I didn't know Tonks was in there, did I? I just stayed on the couch in the hall with her. Mostly we talked about what a prat you are."

"I see," McGonagall cleared her throat loudly. "Was there something more?"

"Yes ma'am," Potter said after a few moments thought. "May I have an age of independence celebration?"

Malfoy used McGonagall's agreement and Lupin's storming from the office as and opening to broach the topic of Snape's letter.

"So you just comforted her?" Malfoy asked as he and Potter made their way down to breakfast.

"For the most part," Harry acknowledged, as they walked through the doors of the Great Hall.

_**I hope you enjoyed it; please don't forget to review.**_

Chapter 28

The Age of Independence II

It was Lupin's _lasso hex_ from earlier that made Harry think it might work with the web. Dobby had spent all morning showing he and Draco how to turn themselves into spiders and now they were working on throwing webs. Harry noticed that if you arched slightly as you cast the strong silky substance, you could wrap it around something. He couldn't resist trying it on the ankle of an unsuspecting Filch as the caretaker passed their way.


	28. The Age Of Independence II

**Disclaimer: **No. They' re not.

**Authors Notes: **I have no idea what took so long. The ideas were there, but I just couldn't manage to get them on paper. I have been working a lot though, teaching summer school and an extra job too. Thanks very much for those of you who wrote encouraging me to continue. I have every intention of doing so. It's just hard sometimes, ya know? The rest of this story is sketched out and I think I should be able to end it in about 10 or 12 more chapters if all goes well and I don't change my mind. Who knows how long that could take. I've already been working on this a year. My ending will definitely leave room for a sequel.

**excessivelyperky **is a rock star! Thanks for doing what you do!

Thanks also to **Bigstew. **You might be a rock star too. Thanks a bunch.

**Enjoy**

**Chapter 28**

**The Age of Independence II**

Severus Snape scanned Potter's essay for what was perhaps the fifth time in the week and a half since Dobby delivered it to him. The Potions Master was amazed that after years of questioning the boy's intelligence, something written by him could have inspired such a significant advance in potions. Although the paper wasn't up to the standard of the one the boy had written as punishment for his dark behavior toward Filch, it was still rather well done considering the work Snape was used to seeing from Potter over the past six years. This was especially true, given Dobby's assertion that Potter had spent a mere forty-five minutes on the topic before carefully setting the paper on the dining room table in the beach house.

According to Dobby, Harry arrived home from the funeral having learned of the prison break from Azkaban and immediately set to work. The house elf had brought the essay to Snape when the wizard had secretly summoned him to Voldemort's lair. After listening to his instructions to clarify the owl message for Potter, the little creature had gingerly handed Snape the missive and commented that since Potter had attended to it with such diligence, surely it must contain important information for Snape. That turned out to be the case.

When Snape had told his Master that he meant to improve the _Polyjuice_ potion in order to better impersonate Goyle, he'd had no intention of actually doing so. It had simply been a ruse so he could seek the privacy of the potions laboratory for communication with Albus and Dobby. No matter the location of Voldemort's various hideouts throughout the years, there was always a potions lab that provided a sanctuary for Severus that other Death Eaters did not enjoy. He was Voldemort's Potions Master, every bit as much as he had been Albus'. Obviously, instead of healing potions for Madame Pomfrey, the Dark Lord was apt to have him working on brews that were decidedly less helpful. Snape had intended to emerge after several days of supposedly dogged research on the _Polyjuice_ and simply present modified findings for his quick brewed formula, which Voldemort knew little about.

Inspiration to really improve the potion came in the form of Potter's essay. Snape had assigned it as a challenge after finding Potter surprisingly competent, not to mention cheeky, the night they had brewed the _Nochebuena_ potion after their joint nightmare. Snape read the boy's assertion that _Polyjuice_ was often taken in conjunction with _Hablabo_ potion, a _Nochebuena_ derivative, which allowed for a spot on voice imitation of the person you were impersonating. While it was true that certain paranoid novices used the potion this way, it made scant difference given that _Polyjuice_ transformed a persons vocal chords, throat, and sinuses along with everything else._ Honestly_, Snape thought, _how did the little dunderhead think Crouch faired so well all those months at Hogwarts_?

However, at the end of the essay, although slightly off topic, as the essay was to have been about ingredient conversions to _Nochebeuna_, Potter speculated as to what other potions might be used in conjunction with _Polyjuice_ to enhance its effects. Here Potter made brief mention of a little used _Animagi_ potion. One dose lasted a week and the potion allowed the person who ingested it to switch back and forth at will between animal and human form. The potion was unpopular because wizard purists touted the philosophy of the importance of discovering one's true _Animagi_ form, rather than engage in such potion induced recreation. After reading the essay, Snape was inspired to combine these two potions. At the end of a week he had developed a _Polyjuice_ that with a weekly dose would allow him to change back and forth between his form and Goyle's at will. When detailing his findings to the Dark Lord prior to departing for Hogwarts, Snape altered them significantly and prudently omitted the information about the ability to switch back and forth.

888

It was Lupin's lasso hex, the memory of which still stung Harry's pride, that made him think an arching technique might work with the _arachnid_ web. Dobby had spent the past week and a half showing he and Draco how to turn themselves into spiders and spin and throw webs. They'd perfected the _cloaking_ charm the first day, and had since spent time on a _rock_ charm, that allowed you to turn into one, and a _cuerpo_ charm that enabled the caster to merge with non living objects in the same vicinity.

The _rock_ charm was dead useful. After transforming, you could hurl yourself with great speed and accuracy. The _cuerpo_ charm was bloody difficult. So far he and Draco had only managed it once, although Dobby had patiently demonstrated again and again, merging and disappearing into pots, pans and ladles in the Hogwarts kitchen.

The _arachnid_ charm was by far the boy's favorite. While casting a web and thinking about Lupin's lasso hex, Harry noticed if you arched slightly as you cast the strong silky substance, you could wrap it around something. He couldn't resist trying it on the ankle of an unsuspecting Filch as the Caretaker passed their way. It slipped free before it could do any real damage, but it did give the grumpy old codger quite a start.

As spiders, they were able to communicate through thin vaporous thought webs that were a bit like memory strands in a pensieve.

"Careful, Master Harry Potter sir," the little spider elf Dobby warned kindly by throwing a thought strand. "Mister Caretaker might stumble."

Harry felt a bit chastened, though he knew Dobby would not presume to reprimand him and had no idea Harry had been _trying_ to make Mister Caretaker stumble.

"But that is very good, Master Harry Potter sir," Dobby continued, his thoughts squeaking along the strand. "Watch Dobby," The elf threw a silky web up at the arm of a suit of armor. He arched the web as Harry had done, and gave it a bit of a twist at the end causing the silky substance to hold true. Dobby jumped up and swung along the web. As he hit mid swing, he threw another web that attached to the edge of a portrait frame, and Dobby began another glorious swing.

"Bloody hell," Draco and Harry said together, and gave rapid chase on little spidery legs.

"That was brilliant, Dobby," Harry enthused, when they caught up. "Let me try."

Another suit of armor stood in front of them. Harry arched and then twisted the web as Dobby instructed. When it attached to the suit of armor, he gave it a yank to see if it held true. Unexpectedly, and in horrifyingly slow motion, the armor came crashing loudly to the stone floor.

Filch could be heard limp-running and swearing as fast as he could back in their direction.

"Dobby is thinking you pulled a bit hard, Master Harry Potter sir." the elf squeaked. "This way. Follow Dobby," the little spider advised.

It was the first time Harry realized that they could walk under most doors in this form. Dobby quickly transformed and the two young men followed suit.

"Where are we?" Harry questioned as he glanced around the small, dimly lit room, and took in the large wooden desk and bookshelves.

"Snape's personal office," Malfoy supplied, as they both strained to hear Filch through the door.

"But we weren't anywhere near the Potion's classroom, were we?" Harry argued.

"Not his classroom office," Draco hissed irritably. "His personal office. Ssh!" he ordered, still pressing his ear to the wall.

Harry quieted down. He remembered McGonagall also had an office space near her quarters. Students seldom ventured there it seemed. Harry wondered if Snape's students were the same.

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud clang followed by more swearing. Both boys tried to suppress laughter while Dobby merely looked worried. His round eyes grew wide.

Filch was only muttering loudly now, and it sounded like he was righting the armor.

"So, Snape's office," Harry said curiously. He waved the lights up after the hall had grown quiet. "This room had to have been warded, don't you reckon?" Harry asked Draco. "That means we can get through wards as spiders," he opined triumphantly.

"Handy little charm that," Draco agreed, and quirked a pleased eyebrow.

Harry didn't bother to stop himself from grinning outright as he looked around the room. He could make out the titles of various potions and defense volumes on the shelves in the brighter light. His eyes scanned the walls, and his breath suddenly caught as he noticed the curvy handle of a long cane hanging on a low hook behind Snape's desk.

"Why is that here?" Harry asked, as he fought down the image of countless unpleasant childhood memories.

"What?" Draco asked. "Why do you suppose?" The Slytherin responded derisively, when he realized where Harry was looking. "Don't suppose McGonagall keeps one of those?" he said with a disgusted shake of his head.

Dobby was more forthcoming, and even went to grab the thing off the wall so Harry could get a better look.

"Master Snape uses this to punish the naughty Slytherins on their bums, Master Harry Potter sir," the elf squeaked helpfully, showing the cane to Harry. "Once when Dobby first came to Hogwarts, Master Snape punished the whole Quidditch team in the Slytherin Common Room." Dobby supplied eagerly.

"Shut it Dobby!" Draco told the elf angrily.

"But Dumbledore banned using the cane at Hogwarts," Harry said, as he looked from Malfoy to the elf.

"He banned it as a regular school punishment, Potter," Malfoy said disdainfully. "Apparently it still can be used at the discretion of the Heads of House."

"But, Merlin," Harry breathed "The whole team. In the common room. In front of everybody?" Harry tried to imagine a similar event taking place in Gryffindor and thankfully couldn't.

"Oh come now, Potter." Draco said snidely. "He _favors_ us. Remember? Never takes points. He never gets after us for anything. _Remember_? The common room fiasco _did_ only happen that one time my second year," Malfoy explained sarcastically. "Normally Snape would call a student into his office and they might get two, or six at the most if he was really cross. Marcus Flint got twelve that day. He had been forging Snape's name all year to double book the Quidditch Pitch. The rest of the team only got two because we finally convinced him we didn't know about the forged notes. But Snape, you know how soft he is with us, insisted we _should_ have known and caned us anyway."

Harry distinctly remembered the Gryffindor team being extremely irritated second year that the Snakes always seemed to have booked the pitch ahead, and they always had a note from Snape saying it was okay.

"Yes, yes," Dobby squeaked excitedly. "That is the time Dobby remembers. At first, Dobby is worried it is his fault and the Slytherins is being punished for the Bludger Dobby used to chase Harry Potter."

"Right. Fat chance Snape would have punished anyone for that." It was Harry's turn to sound derisive.

"Shows how much you know, Potter. It was the Bludger that set Snape off." Draco sneered "He cornered the whole team in the common room carrying that bloody thing in his hand for the love of Merlin," Draco pointed an accusing finger at the cane. "He was sure one of us had charmed that Bludger. He talked about how asinine and obvious it was to do that in a game we were playing in," Draco reported hotly. "We kept swearing we didn't do it. Flint finally got so rattled he confessed to the forgeries. So we got it for that instead."

"Such high pitched screams, Master Harry Potter sir," Dobby supplied. "Yes, yes, Dobby remembers." Harry wondered vaguely if Dobby meant that Snape or the Quidditch team had been screaming.

"Potter if you can't control this elf…" Draco began

"And that's not all, Master Harry Potter sir," Dobby squeaked in an oddly proud tone. "As Master Snape is walloping Marcus Flint, he says he isn't convinced the naughty Slytherins don't know about the Bludger. Master said if he found out differently he would wallop the whole Slytherin House."

"Do you ever shut up?" Draco hissed at the elf. "Snape was afraid we were going to bring the Headmaster down on us for messing with precious Potter."

"Dobby thinks Master was worried about Harry Potter," the elf opined haughtily.

"I'm highly skeptical of that, Dobby." Harry said doubtfully.

"I found out later from Father it was this bloody menace who charmed the Bludger." Draco hooked his thumb at the elf. "Should have strangled the little beast for getting me caned. I still should."

"During second year ex Master Draco was called into Master Snape's office for two hard wallops at least once a week because he was naughty in classes. Ex Master should be used to it Dobby thinks," the little elf squeaked soberly. "Why in third year when ex Master Draco pretended to be injured by a hippogriff…" Dobby began.

"That's it!" Draco fumed, as he rounded on Dobby.

Harry stepped quickly between the two.

"Dobby you should stop," Harry gently admonished the elf, as he tried to keep the amusement out of his voice. "It's embarrassing to share such things."

"But house elves is punished all the time, Master Harry Potter sir," Dobby said sounding confused. "Dobby is not embarrassed."

"Wizards are though, Dobby," Harry explained. "So no more stories like that, do you understand?"

"Dobby thinks so, Master Harry Potter sir," the elf said. "So Dobby should not tell ex Master Draco about Gryffindor's sword and what happened after the Wheezy…"

"Right!" Harry said rather urgently. "That would be embarrassing..."

"Wait," Draco said getting interested. "What happened with the Weasel and Gryffindor's sword?"

"Nothing," Harry said quickly. "How _do_ you know all this stuff, Dobby?" Harry asked. He knew Dobby had still been at the Weasley's when Snape had gotten after him with Gryffindor's sword.

"House elves listen, Master Harry Potter, sir," the elf said proudly. "They listens and watches all the time. And when elves are not listening and watching, they are talking to each other about what they sees and hears," Dobby explained

Any response Harry may have made was cut short by the distinct sound of Headmistress McGonagall's voice just outside the door.

"The Ministry reset the wards on the main door," she was explaining. "But these should still be keyed to your magical signature, if I am not mistaken."

After a moment's pause and a spell muttered in a low voice, the door swung open. McGonagall entered first, and immediately proceeded to trip on the cane Dobby had left sitting in the middle of the floor in his haste to transform. The Headmistress regained her balance on the edge of the desk and also with the assistance of a strong, long fingered hand. Harry looked further up to see the hand belonged to Severus Snape. The image was distorted looking at him in the form of a spider, but it was obviously Snape. Harry took a moment to feel relief. Then he experienced a bit of curiosity as to why Snape was not disguised as Goyle. Both of these emotions were quickly overrun by his instinct to get out of there before they were found out.

"Run," he and Draco thought at the same time.

888

Severus Snape reached down to examine the object that had tripped his colleague.

"Why is this here?" Snape questioned, staring at the cane in confusion.

"Perhaps you were in the midst of chastising one of your students when last you were here?" Minerva speculated.

"Perhaps," said Snape, unconvinced. "I can't imagine leaving it on the floor, however."

"I don't believe Albus never did more to dissuade you from using that on your students." McGonagall said frankly, as she indicated the cane.

"Never stopped you from complaining about them, even knowing the possible consequences," Snape observed. "I had always wished he would allow me to use it on a few of your students," he commented dryly.

"Anyone in particular?" McGonagall asked, not quite able to keep the smile out of her voice.

"I can think of a few off hand," Snape said, as he returned the cane to its hook and swept the room with a suspicious gaze.

"Well, you can get through to your main quarters through there," McGonagall stated, and indicated a paneled wall.

With a nod of his head, Severus pressed his hand to the wall and it opened into a moderately sized sitting room decorated in dark rich colors.

"The Aurors tore things apart after we found Filius down here, but things have been put to rights now I believe."

"How is Filius? Snape asked with a bit of a wince, as he thought of the night he threw the _concussion_ hex at the unsuspecting little Charms professor.

"Recovered," McGonagall stated stiffly.

"Hexing him," Severus began uneasily. "It wasn't strictly part of my orders, but I could not risk his going up to the Astronomy Tower with me." After a pause he added, "I'm grateful he has recovered."

"Severus, I know you were following our daft old Headmaster's instructions, but the issue remains something I can neither forgive, nor even discuss at present," she explained flatly.

"I believe I could make you understand...a bit more... if we did discuss it," Severus offered cautiously.

"I do not wish to understand it." McGonagall returned sternly, causing Severus to flinch.

He mentally chastised himself as he squared his shoulders. Severus could stand up unflinching to the Dark Lord for the love of Merlin. What was it about this exasperating woman, that could make him feel like he was still fifteen? He shook his head irritably and schooled his expression.

"Of course, Minerva," he said in what he hoped was a neutral tone.

"I _am_ sorry," she said harshly. "But it is going to take me a bit more time."

He held up a hand as though to say it was no matter.

"I thank you for allowing me to stay," he said a bit formally. "I will stay no longer than necessary... the day after Potter's birthday at the latest," he explained.

"I want your word that this plan of yours won't bring either of those boys to harm," she said after a moment.

It was an unfair thing to ask. The plan was risky at best. Severus needed to just seem as though he were trying to capture the boys and they needed to escape at the last moment. Severus wouldn't be able to help it if either Harry or Draco made a foolish mistake. And they _would_ be dealing with Death Eaters. However, as he looked at McGonagall, Severus found that he couldn't quite bear any more disapproval from that quarter.

"You have it," he told her. He hoped it was true and was unreasonably grateful that after all that had happened, his word was still worth something to her.

The Headmistress nodded her head once and left the room.

Once he was alone, Severus sank rather dejectedly into a plush chair and flipped open the Angelth.

"Severus, my boy. How are you?" Albus greeted.

"Minerva is still mad at me," he replied sullenly.

"I am sorry to hear that my boy," Albus responded after a moment. "But she will come around."

"No she won't, Albus," Severus said in the same tone. "How can she get over this. She thinks I'm a monster. She'll never forgive me."

"You are not a monster, Severus," Albus assured him kindly.

"Yes, I am," Severus told him. "I killed you," he pointed out.

"I ordered you to," Albus reminded him.

"What kind of monster follows an order like that?" Severus wanted to know.

"Well," Albus said. "If it is between anyone, it is between you and I. And for what it is worth, I forgive you, Severus," Albus said, his eyes twinkling madly.

"Everything is a joke with you, isn't it old man?" Severus' mouth quirked up slightly on one end as he said it.

"Not quite everything," Albus replied, his eyes still twinkling. "And when you have finished pouting, I should like to speak with you on a matter of the utmost seriousness."

"I am not pouting," Severus denied with a haughty expression.

"I do beg your pardon, Severus," Albus said soothingly. "I had thought you were."

"Well, I'm not," Severus corrected him "What do you want?"

"First I'd like to say how very relieved I am that Tom's plans worked out to our benefit this time, as it places you exactly where you need to be." Albus said with an expansive gesture.

"A few less riddles if you would please, Albus?" Severus requested, as he narrowed his eyes slightly.

"I am saying that it is essential that Harry be with you within 24 hours of reaching the age of independence."

"Hm," was all Severus said. He wondered if for once this frustrating old man would explain himself.

"That is initially why I had instructed him to come to you straight away upon coming of age," blue eyes sought black ones and Albus seemed highly amused. "No questions thus far, Severus?"

"None," Severus replied. He was doing a brilliant job of not showing his irritation, he thought. "Please do go on, Albus."

"It is time, Severus," Albus stated with a dramatic flare. "That I reveal to you the third chapter of your prophecy."

Severus thought morosely that he was the only person he'd ever heard of who had a prophecy that was revealed in chapters, like some bloody Muggle mystery novel. He wondered vaguely if the chapters were something Albus made up because he wanted to reveal the thing a bit at a time. The-Bloody-Boy-Who-Lived got to have a straight forward prophesy. _The one with the power to vanquish...blah, blah, blah. _Simple. Kill or be killed. Oh but not Severus! Severus' prophecy had to have bloody chapters.

"Questions now, Severus?" Albus intoned gently

The first chapter of Severus' prophecy was revealed to him when he first started Hogwarts. _The Half Blood Prince, born as the new year dawns will be destined to immerse himself in the Darkness that he may become a Beacon for the Light._ There had been no doubt that the Beacon was Severus, born January 9, eleven years prior. And Albus began training him fiercely in the arts of both Darkness and the Light. When the time came for his little Beacon to merge with the Darkness he would be well prepared, well fortified and in less danger of losing his soul. If Severus was honest, that was more than enough to deal with at the age of eleven.

Chapter two of his prophecy had been revealed at age 17, the time of his own age of independence. _The Half Blood Prince coming of age as the new year dawns will be destined to teach the new child of prophecy born as the seventh month dies to loathe the Darkness. _Severus had thought that was the last of his prophecy, and with pitiful few instructions as to how to go about it, he lamented at the time. If Severus had not schooled The-Boy-Who-Lived to loathe the Darkness, he had certainly taught the boy to loathe him. Albus had always chastised his methods. Severus had never had the bollocks to tell the old man that he was following the trail that Albus himself had blazed so well by leaving the boy with his Muggle relatives.

"Questions?" Albus asked him again in the here and now.

"Not a question, Albus," the younger wizard replied, with a sour expression. "But I do hope to Merlin this is the final chapter."

888

"I don't think we should wait here for him," Harry said looking around Malfoy's messy dorm room as the boy stretched out on his bed. They had sent Dobby back to the kitchens moments after arriving and transforming.

"What are you on about?" The blond boy said, as he propped his hands lazily behind his head. "He won't have known we were in his office. You act as though he's going to show up in the common room with a cane," Malfoy joked. Harry had made the mistake of mentioning that his uncle used to get after him with a cane, and Malfoy cottoned on that he found Slytherin discipline more disturbing than amusing.

"He'll expect us to be training though won't he?" Harry pressed. "Not lazing around doing nothing."

"Since when do care so much what he thinks?" Draco asked, clearly confused by the notion.

"I just don't want him to be cross," Harry admitted and was immediately embarrassed at having done so. Draco's response surprised him.

"When the hell isn't he cross?"

"Come on," Harry laughed. "Don't you want to practice that swinging thing. We'll do it just along the dungeon, so we'll see him when he heads this way.

They practiced along the dungeon corridors, winding their webs around the edges of the more secure portrait frames to avoid another accident, swinging free on their webs from one frame to the next. It was better than flying on a broom, Harry decided.

As fortune would have it, just as he was swinging along the portrait that adorned Snape's personal office for the fifteenth time was the moment the Potions Master chose to exit the room. With skill borne of Quidditch, rather than practice with the spider charm, Harry pushed back on the door just as he was in danger of being smashed into the wall. He swung his way to the safety of the next portrait. This had the unfortunate effect of making the door swing back rather quickly and smack into Snape. The Potions Master swore fluently although it was in Goyle's voice and form as he looked around the hall for what might have caused this effect.

Draco threw a thought web at Harry.

"Oh he's definitely bringing the cane now," the other spider laughed.

"Shut it Draco," was the only response Harry could think of.

They waited until a few moments after he had entered the Slytherin Common Room to transform and follow. They found him in Malfoy's dorm room, and it was rather disconcerting to see such a Snape-like scowl on Gregory Goyle's round face.

Harry wondered if he was irritated about the door, or worse yet knew they had been in his office. Then he was so distracted by seeing Goyle quirk a patented Snape eyebrow, that he wanted to ask how Snape was switching back and forth between forms. Harry was saved from giving away that he had seen Snape in his office when the Potions Master smoothly morphed into his regular form.

"Clean. Up. This. Room." He ordered in a deadly quiet voice.

Draco quickly moved to obey, while Harry looked around. The Slytherin boy was a slob. It seemed no sooner had the house elves cleaned, than he began to dirty things up again. He just seemed to drop things wherever he stood. Sweets wrappers, books, robes, pants, anything. Feeling happy that he had moved over to the girls dorms, Harry glanced up to notice Snape giving him a very pointed look.

"Oh," he stuttered and quickly began to help the other boy.

"Sorry," Malfoy muttered as Harry passed close. "Bit of neat freak that one."

"I wouldn't test that cheek just now if I were you Draco," Snape said, having overheard the comment. "How many times must I tell you?" He questioned sternly. "This is Hogwarts School, not Malfoy Manor. There isn't a team of House elves assigned specifically to you, employed with the sole task of seeing to it that you wipe your lazy arse properly. How many times must I tell you that?"

"You can stop anytime," Draco responded in an angry tone, his face growing impossibly red.

Harry winced at the cruel intimacy of Snape's rebuke. He redoubled his efforts to help the boy tidy up and cast about for a way he might lighten the mood.

"How are you switching back and forth between forms, sir?" Harry asked as he banished a licorice wand wrapper.

"I have you to thank for that, Potter," Snape began. "You and your rather less than stellar essay."

Harry cringed at the initial tone, thinking he had mistakenly brought the Potions Master's wrath on himself. But Snape went on to explain how he had used the information in Harry's essay to improve the _Polyjuice_ formula.

"That's brilliant, sir," Harry said sincerely.

Snape looked as though he were fighting against saying something pleasant.

"You will, of course, be rewriting the essay,"

"What? Harry balked. "After it helped you with all that?" He complained incredulously.

"Yes, Potter. It certainly would have been a satisfactory essay if the subject had been _Polyjuice_," Snape explained. "What was the assignment, Potter, do you recall?"

"Hm," Harry intoned. "I was to see what potion the _Nochebuena_ would turn into if you switch isis for talgfar weed?"

"_Hablabo_," Malfoy supplied.

"Correct," Snape addressed the blonde boy. "_Hablabo_," he said to Harry. While you do mention it and how it is made, in your conclusion you continue talking about _Polyjuice_, thus severely weakening your paper."

"You should have talked about the other _Nochebuena_ derivatives," Draco piped in.

"I should have?" Harry couldn't help smile at the boy's enthusiasm and was glad the earlier tension was dissipating, even if he was stuck doing a ruddy essay.

"There are a few," Draco explained looking around the room. "They all have to do with senses. _Oyendo_, which enhances hearing. _Buscando_, increases vision. _Tocado_ is touch..."

"All of which you would have known," Snape interrupted, "if you had done a bit of research."

"And there's this really cool one," Malfoy said warming even more to the subject. "If you switch all of the ingredients and add cottonfeather leaf, it makes a recreational potion, _Noche_ _Suprema_. It makes your dreams extremely vivid and you can smell, touch, taste..." Malfoy stopped as though suddenly remembering where he was. "A Ravenclaw girl told me about it," he said and quickly turned to straighten his bedcovers a bit.

"Indeed?" Snape intoned. "Did she also say that cottonfeather leaf is a restricted ingredient and _Noche Suprema_ is _illegal_?" Snape asked sternly. "It has the nasty habit of stunting your magical growth."

"She might have mentioned it..." Draco said noncommittally.

"Perhaps not that much research, Potter," Snape said, turning back to the boy. "However..."

"When was I supposed to research it, sir?" Harry interrupted "McGonagall wanted me to come straight back here and I wanted to finish it before I left."

"And you didn't bring it here to work on because...?"

It was a pretty unfair question Harry thought. He had been distraught after all. Snape should be happy he had done the thing in the first place. He had the feeling perhaps Snape was working out some earlier frustration on he and Draco both. Maybe McGonagall had given Snape a hard time. No matter. Harry decided to have a bit of fun. If he was lucky he would lighten the mood further, if he was unlucky, he'd get hexed.

"Well I didn't bring it here because I figured you were dead, sir." Harry replied innocently. Before Snape could figure out how to react he continued. "And I knew it wouldn't matter because you'd never know if I did it or not," Harry noticed he had gotten Draco's attention as well. "Not that I wanted you dead, mind. I mean, that would have been _Dark_ just to get out of an essay. And not just Ordinary Dark, but really Dark. Certainly not Gray...course there's no need to research now, I can just write down what Draco said...Ow," Harry didn't get hexed, but the sharp cuff Snape visited on the back of his head did smart quite a bit.

"None of your cheek," Snape said in that part stern, part amused voice Harry was starting to get used to.

"Research is important, I reckon," Harry conceded, rubbing his head.

"It is paramount," Snape agreed. "I'm sure the school library or the library in my quarters will yield the appropriate materials for your essay revision."

"What if I don't finish, though?" Harry complained lightly, as Snape made his way to the door. "I have my age of independence party tomorrow."

"I suggest you get started so you are allowed to attend," Snape responded mildly.

"Yeah. All right," Harry agreed with a light chuckle.

"What in the seven hells was that?" Malfoy asked when Snape had gone.

"What?" Harry wanted to know.

"You," Malfoy said like he was a bit appalled. "Being all cutesy and cheeky with, Snape?"

"What...Oh...I was just trying to get him to laugh a bit..." Harry said self consciously.

"You were what?" Malfoy asked as though Harry had suddenly lapsed intoan unknown language.

"I dunno. You both had gotten mad, so I thought I'd...you know...wasn't that what you were doing with the Ravenclaw-rec-potion bit?" Harry asked defensively.

"No." Malfoy said plainly. "I was trying to show you up. Thought if we focused on what a dolt you are, he'd stay off my arse.

"Oh," Harry decided he didn't want to be having this stupid conversation. "I was trying to get you both to lighten up."

"He even cuffed you," Malfoy said, as though that were the biggest transgression of all.

"Yeah. It hurt," Harry found Malfoy's outrage on this particular point funny for some reason.

"When did you stop hating him?" Malfoy demanded. "What were you kissing his arse for?"

"What does that mean?" Harry asked, starting to get angry himself.

"Wow, that's brilliant, sir!" Draco mimicked. "When did _he_ stop hating _you_?" Draco wanted to know.

"Oh, I'm sure he still does," Harry argued.

"No. He doesn't," Malfoy said plainly.

"Malfoy, I have no idea what your problem is?

"He even swore around you," Malfoy stated irritably.

"What _is_ that about? He does that a lot now. Is that just the way he is in summer?" Harry asked, honestly curious. He had noticed before that Snape's language had grown quite colorful.

"No," Draco replied angrily. "That's just the way he is with Slytherins."

"I don't get it," Harry admitted, sure he was being insulted.

"It's difficult to explain, what with you not being a Slytherin and all," Draco retorted snidely. "He's just more casual. A bit like how some families are different at home than they are in public."

Harry thought to say he could relate to that. The Dursleys were certainly different at home than they were in public. He also considered mentioning the sorting hat had nearly put him in Slytherin. Finally he settled on the only response that made sense.

"Yeah. Okay. Piss off, Malfoy. I have an essay to write."

**_I hope you liked it. Don't forget to review._**

**Chapter 29**

**The Story of William**

Snape had already heard far too many whispered complaints from older Slytherins about _that snobby, smart-arsed Malfoy boy, _and decided to give his godson his first in house detention. Draco was to tidy up after his housemates in the Slytherin Common Room every night for a week.

Before serving his first night, eleven year-old Draco boldly entered Severus' office and complained.

"This is servant's work Uncle Severus," the boy began in angry petulance. "I am certain father would not approve."

Since they were alone, Severus ignored the slip in formal address, and calmly explained that while he was in Slytherin House the boy's discipline was his responsibility.

_**This chapter has been altered slightly since original posting.**_


	29. The Story of William

**Disclaimer: **Um...Nope. Not really. No.

**Authors Notes: **Thanks so much for all your reviews. I'm glad I was able to get this to you folks a little faster this time. Severus' cane being carved from the Whomping Willow was stolen from **An Obedient House** by Rebecca Webb. You're gonna have to Google it. Ffdotnet is being cranky.

**excessivelyperky ** is the best. _Sing it with me now_… is the best…is the best. **excessivelyperky **is the best, in the fanfic world! Many thanks for all your help. Did I mention you're the best?

And thanks a bunch to **Bigstew**! I really appreciate the help. You rock!

**Enjoy **

**Chapter 29**

**The Story of William**

Severus Snape felt a pang of regret as he settled himself onto the couch in the sitting room of his quarters, and thought about the encounter he'd just had with Draco and Potter in the dormitory. On the long list of Severus' bad habits was a tendency to take his frustrations out on his Slytherins when feeling particularly put upon by Minerva or Albus. This morning he'd had a dose of both of them. He'd actually had a double dose of Minerva when Albus had insisted he contact her via the floo and make her aware of the latest chapter of his prophecy. Severus of course hadn't explained the entire chapter, only the parts that pertained to Potter. She had been displeased, unconvinced, and had given him an earful. And as was his pattern, Severus went in search of some unlucky little snake to vent his frustration upon. _Little snakes, _Severus thought with a bit of a start, _how in Merlin's realm did Potter wind up in that category? _

Perhaps his shift in attitude toward Potter, more than Snape's sharp rebuke, explained the look of hurt betrayal that crossed Draco's face as Snape left the boy's dorm room. Although, if he wanted to get technical about it, Potter was a Slytherin, or he would have been one if the presumptuous little smart arse had let the Sorting Hat do its damn job. Severus had been furious when Albus had first told him, after the Welcome Feast the night the boy had arrived, that he had talked the hat out of putting him in Slytherin. If the boy had been sorted outright into Gryffindor, it would have been have been fine, but to find that the boy had lobbied against his house with such scant knowledge irked the man. Severus thought that perhaps the child knew more about the Wizarding World than Albus initially let on. He determined more strongly than ever to fulfill the second chapter of his prophecy, _to teach the child to loathe the Darkness_, by making the biased little brat's life miserable. However, the harder he was on the boy, the more Albus coddled him. The older wizard insisted rather than truly following his prophecy, Severus was settling old grudges, and then when Albus indulged the boy, petty jealousy. Severus had to admit, there was certainly some truth to that. When Albus took away the house cup at the end of Potter's first year, it was as much to punish his behavior as to reward the boy. Albus informed the Potions Master of his decision the morning of the feast. No amount of arguing that his attitude towards the boy strengthened his cover as a spy would dissuade the old man from his decision.

"I want you to give some serious thought as to how you are going about this," Albus had admonished as he dismissed the younger wizard from his office.

Severus felt a bit like he had when he was still in school and lost points for his house. The feeling was cemented by Albus' threat that Slytherin would never see another cup until he decided to take his responsibilities more seriously. The threat not withstanding, he refused to change his methods, and things grew steadily worse between he and Potter. The night they brewed the _Nochebuena_ potion after their joint nightmare, Potter asked Snape if he would have liked him more if he had been more prepared that first class when the Potions Master had taken the boy to task for his very existence. Severus answered honestly that he would probably have loathed him more. But if Potter had been in his house, he _would_ have found a way to do things differently. And if Potter had been sorted into Slytherin, it would also solve the current issue of Severus having embarrassed Draco by giving him a good telling off in front of the boy.

Draco was no doubt well used to Snape's scolding after six years in Slytherin. Severus had actually laid into him for his slovenliness when last they met when he had come to fetch Dobby. _That had been Minerva's fault too_, Snape thought grumpily. But being used to the standard Snape tongue lashing was a far cry from Draco being complacent about such being witnessed by Potter. Snape had attempted to even the score by finding something to get after Potter about as well. He had not initially intended to make the boy rewrite the essay. In fact he had been a bit impressed that he had completed the assignment in the first place, given the amount of stress he must have been under when he first learned of the prison break.

But Severus scolding Potter in front of Draco was not the same as Draco receiving a dressing down in front of The-Boy-Who-Lived. Severus decided he'd best go back and speak to his godson rather than let the wound fester. Draco and Potter would need to work well together and he didn't want any ill temper from him to interfere with that. Not to mention that he had distracted himself from his intention to talk to the boys about what they had learned thus far from Dobby. He wanted see if they had mastered anything that would help as they worked out the finer details of their mock capture, which had suddenly become more complex now that Albus had revealed the third chapter of the prophecy.

When thinking back on the morning's exchange with the boys, Snape got the impression that Potter, for his part, had been deliberately trying to ease the situation with his cheeky rejoinders. And loath though Severus was to admit it, the boy had managed to make him feel slightly less cross. Draco had clearly been intent on demonstrating how much more intelligent he was than Potter. Perhaps he thought it a good way to keep Snape's bad humor focused away from him. Snape had no doubt hurt the young Slytherin's pride by leveling such a crass and harsh rebuke in Potter's presence, even if the blond boy was used to such.

Severus had made it clear when Draco first came to Hogwarts how little patience he had for him behaving, like a spoiled, pompous little prince. This behavior included, but was by no means limited to his penchant for dropping his things wherever he stood as though the world were there to serve him, and behaving in a condescending and discourteous manner to his house mates.

Severus recalled one night early in Draco's first year. The Potion's Master had entered an extremely untidy first year dorm room and began to admonish the group of newly minted Slytherins to neaten up immediately. As they scurried to comply, their grumbled comments made it clear that most of the mess was Draco's, and his dorm mates were as irritated by it as Snape was.

"But Crabbe and Goyle," Draco began when Snape chastised him about it. "They don't have house elves. They're most likely used to tidying up," he surmised in haughty innocence.

Snape had already heard far too many whispered complaints from older Slytherins about _that snobby, smart-arsed Malfoy boy_, and decided his godson had earned his first in house detention. Much to their distress, Snape gave the house elves the week off from their cleaning duties in the Slytherin Common Room, and Draco was to tidy up after his house mates in their stead.

Before serving his first night Draco boldly entered Severus' office and complained.

"This is servants' work Uncle Severus," Draco began in angry petulance. "I am certain Father would not approve."

Since they were alone, Severus ignored the slip in formal address and calmly explained that while he was in Slytherin House the boy's discipline was his responsibility.

"I do not doubt Lucius' expertise on what it takes to be a Malfoy. You are going to have to trust that I can guide you in what it takes to be a Slytherin. When it seems that I am handling something differently than he might, or that he and I disagree, you just need to remember that I am your Head of House and I intend to do my best by you."

"I don't see how this could be best for me," the boy railed. "I'll be behaving like a common house elf? The other students will _see_ me," Draco whined.

"I do believe that is the point, Draco," he told the boy, patiently. "Many have observed you in the two short weeks you have been here routinely disrespecting your house mates and their living space. Now they will see you taking pride in it."

"I'm certain there are others who leave their stuff everywhere too," he tried to argue.

"I am not concerned about the others at present," Snape said, his patience beginning to wane. "Furthermore, the issue is larger than that. I am concerned about your attitude, and while it may serve you well in Malfoy Manor, it will not serve you in Slytherin House. Here in Slytherin, we work together and respect one another."

Severus' words were having no effect whatsoever, and the boy retorted angrily.

"I'm going to owl Father," he threatened in a shaky petulant voice.

"You are of course free to do so, Dragon," Severus had deliberately reverted to his nickname for the child.

They both knew Draco wouldn't owl Lucius. Severus had too long been the boy's ally when it came to dealing with his father. Draco knew better than to do anything to jeopardize that.

"I won't do it!" He shouted as he finally lost control. "You can't make me!" The boy insisted as he crossed his arms stubbornly and stomped one expensively shod foot.

Severus let out a deep regretful sigh and decided that perhaps it was time Draco had a sharp conversation with William.

The first years were told about William during Snape's welcome speech to beginning and returning students. On the first night of the school term, the Slytherins lined up by year in the common room while Severus explained and reiterated procedures, expectations, rules, and consequences. One of the consequences for misbehavior in Slytherin House was William, a five foot cane that Severus had carved from a branch of the Whomping Willow tree on Hogwarts grounds. Every year Severus told the story of a gang of students from one house that were arrogant, pompous bullies who targeted a single student from an opposing house for abuse and cruel pranks.

"And since their behavior was never taken very seriously by their Head of House of House or the Headmaster, it escalated," Severus explained. "Until finally they risked the lone student's life by putting him in the path of a werewolf one full moon near the Whomping Willow tree."

Severus never said what houses the students were from, but in his first year or two of teaching, some of the older students knew the story well. Each year he stressed that such behavior was cowardly and un-Slytherin and that he and William wouldn't stand for such. He stated that he knew they would have their differences with other houses, but consequences for disputes with routinely uneven numbers would be dealt with severely.

"As Slytherins you are forbidden to fight among yourselves," he told them each year. "We are a family, and while we will not seek out disputes with other houses, nor bully any single student, we will stick together and defend one another. We will treat each other with the utmost respect and care because there are those beyond the walls of this dungeon who surely will not."

It was in January of Severus' first year as Head of Slytherin that he decided to carve William. He had been trying to find a way to establish some sort of order in his house and been failing miserably. Albus was clearly disappointed and Minerva and the other teachers were constantly complaining about the Slytherin's attitudes and behavior.

"You must try harder, Severus," the old man reprimanded, having summoned the younger wizard to his office. "You simply must do something to get your house in hand."

Severus thought it was terribly unfair, given the difficulty he was having, not to mention that he was not much older than his oldest students himself. Albus behaved as though Severus' six months with Voldemort had toughened him beyond needing any support or consideration. For a short while after his return to Hogwarts, it didn't seem to matter that he had joined the dark side on Albus' orders and had acted in accordance with his prophecy. Quickly it became clear that he blamed Severus for the Potter's deaths. Not just superficially, but he assumed the younger wizard had been the one to betray them to Voldemort, having overheard Trelawney at the Hogshead when Harry's prophecy was first revealed. When Severus finally realized what the problem was, he quickly went about setting the record straight.

"You need only look in my mind, Headmaster," he told the older wizard soberly. "You know I am speaking the truth."

It had been a long time since they had met along their Occlumency pathway. Severus was relieved to feel that the link still resonated with the same love, and it became clear to Albus that Severus spoke the truth. For a while they both believed that it must have been Black who betrayed his friends, but years later it became clear that the guilty party was Pettigrew. Before Severus understood the pain and misconception that motivated Albus, he blamed himself for the Headmaster's attitude. He had argued with the older wizard most disrespectfully before leaving to join the Death Eaters. Severus fairly cringed when he thought of his arrogant eighteen-year old self.

"I get more respect from the Dark Lord," he had complained bitterly about Albus' favoritism for the Marauders spilling over into the Order of the Phoenix. "Perhaps I shall join him in earnest!" Severus had threatened, not meaning a word of it.

He had known for quite some time that he would have to join if he was to spy for the Light, but to make such a threat was unconscionable. In darker moments he wondered if Albus had engineered the argument as he had so many things, in order to make it easier for him to send Severus to a fate so dark.

The threat had seemed to upset Albus so much that he had nearly struck the younger wizard, but in the end he merely sent Severus away to fulfill his prophecy and refused to speak to him for six months. Severus had attended a few Death Eater meetings prior to his exile and had been reporting back to Albus. Suddenly he had to deal with the darkness alone. He took the Mark as had been planned. However, he had to do so without his mentor, and with no one to ease his anxiety and tell him he was doing what he must. Severus would have rather endured Tobias' most brutal thrashing than suffer Albus' silence. He continued to try to follow Albus' orders, although the wizard refused to talk to him. Severus for a time passed messages through Minerva because although she did not know of the prophecy, she did understand early on that Severus was acting as a spy.

In those early days after Voldemort first fell when Severus had first been allowed back at Hogwarts, it seemed Albus was nearly constantly lecturing him on the need to do better. He did it over tea as though that might remove the sting of Severus getting his arse thoroughly chewed out every other day. The younger wizard didn't have the bollocks to complain that the behavior of his students was no different than what Albus and Minerva had let the Marauders get away with for years. Things were rapidly spiraling out of control. It was in a fit of desperation over his own impending failure and anguish over those who had failed him that prompted him to admit Slytherin housed many Marauders of its own. They targeted not only students from other houses, but most appallingly, unfortunate members of their own. If he were honest, he had to admit it was the same when he was a student. Yet a Head of House like Slughorn turned a blind eye and a deaf ear to such things, as he curried the favor with Hogwart's future celebrities. He wondered if Albus had ever given Slughorn's fat arse a dressing down for failing to manage his house, or Minerva for that matter. Severus had no desire to be as ineffectual as Slughorn and nor to have Albus constantly getting after him. Even without his fear of Albus' disappointment, he couldn't let the behavior he was witnessing among his students stand. It was in knowing first hand where such behavior could lead, if left unchecked, that symbolically led Severus to create William from a branch of the Whomping Willow. He was justifiably apprehensive about becoming like his father, but he had thought many times if James Potter had a father a bit more like his, he wouldn't have been nearly so full of himself.

Severus called his students together in the Slytherin Common Room, and had a frank conversation about not only what he had been observing, but he talked to them about what _they_ wished it to mean to be a Slytherin. In reality it was but a small number of them who were causing the most trouble, much as it had been in the glory days of Gryffindor, when the Marauders ruled the castle. The fact that their new Head of House was speaking so honestly with them intrigued the Slytherins. They formed a tighter and closer circle around Severus and the fire as the night wore on that crisp January night. Little ones climbed on older students laps and his Slytherins scrunched ever closer, as they sought the warmth of not only of the common room fire, but that which Severus himself seemed to be providing. They spoke honestly of their thoughts and fears and not only how they saw themselves but how the rest of the school viewed them.

Together they came up with a set of norms and expectations. They formed a list of consequences, of which William and the thousand feet of parchment torture were just two of Severus' ideas. The students came up with many that were far more creative. If a Slytherin maligned the heritage of another Slytherin, the students created a chant the culprit would be required to recite for one hour while standing in the center of the Slytherin Common Room.

_There are no mudbloods in Slytherin._

_There are no halfbloods in Slytherin._

_There are no purebloods in Slytherin._

_There are only Slytherins in Slytherin!_

Severus knew it would be a long time if ever that their attitude could find its way into their dealings with the rest of the school, but it was a brilliant start. Respect and loyalty for one another topped the list for what the students and Severus wanted it to mean to be a Slytherin.

It was respecting his fellow Slytherins that young Draco found so very difficult his first few weeks at Hogwarts. Underlying the basic lack of respect was the feeling that he was better than everyone else. Severus didn't fault the boy overmuch, as he had seen first hand that the boy's attitudes were a direct result of having been raised by Lucius. Still, Snape was always bothered by the underlying attitude of entitlement that made the boy behave that way. It reminded Severus far too much of Lucius. Although Severus would never tell him, that was one thing Draco had in common with Potter. Severus was always severely annoyed when he perceived either boy to be behaving too much like their father. While he saw nothing wrong with familial pride, Lucius always took it a step too far. It was a desire to disabuse the boy of this notion of inborn superiority more than anything else that made Severus contemplate eliciting the assistance of William when Draco refused his detention.

Having been created from the wood of a magical tree, William was extremely receptive to charms and Severus charmed the cane in a few key ways. First he charmed it to never scar or otherwise damage the skin of one of his students. He thought of the countless scars that adorned his body. The ones received between ages four and seventeen were a permanent reminder of similar attentions his father had paid him. Albus had left scars during this time period as well, and Severus was determined not to leave any of that variety either. He was thinking of Tobias when he charmed William with a modified reversal spell, so that if he were ever to use it in a deliberately cruel or unfair manner, he would feel twice the pain.

He had been caught by the charm a few times in the early years. In time he learned to feel the charm building, and he could change his mind and give what he called the _threat of a hiding_. Severus would put the culprit across his desk and force William to whistle menacingly through the air only to land with deliberate gentleness on their backside. Snape would warn them that next time they might get a real hiding, so they had better straighten up. He used this method often with his first years, not wanting to alienate those newly in his care. The unrepentant usually wound up feeling his hand on the seat of their school uniform at some point, but he resisted using William on the firsties. There had been a few times when Severus was using William at a time he ought not to when he felt the charm building but refused to heed it. There had been one memorable occasion when his anger had gotten the better of him and he had caned his entire Quidditch team and suffered the effects for hours afterwards. He remembered berating the group as he sent them off to spend the remainder of the day in their dorm rooms to contemplate their deplorable behavior. Severus made his way to his own quarters to do the same.

He had also charmed William so that if he held it in his hands in a student's presence, it would grow hot if the student were becoming more obstinate and cold if they were becoming less so. Severus often held it just after punishing a student as a means of determining whether or not they felt they had been dealt with justly. Many times the act of simply taking William in his hands caused a student to rethink their position. The evening of Draco's first detention when Snape first picked up William the wood was uncomfortably hot. However, once the boy spied the thing in his hands, it began to cool with almost with comedic speed. It corresponded with the color draining rapidly from the boy's already too pale skin.

Snape had a feeling the mere threat of a hiding would be enough for Draco and there would be no need to bring the full force of William's persuasive nature to bear. The ominous sound of William's shriek through the tense air of the office was enough to make the boy apologize profusely. The gentle tap on the seat of his school trousers reduced him to tears and fervent promises to do better. Although the boy had received much worse at the hands of Lucius, the mere thought that his dear Uncle Sev, who often intervened with his father advocating leniency, would thrash him was too much for the boy to bear. Draco quickly changed his mind and decided it would be best if he completed his detention. It took time, but Draco had improved year by year, though it took many trips over Severus' desk and the near constant assistance of William. It was not very long before he discovered that his dear Uncle Sev would indeed give him a real hiding.

During Draco's fifth year, disaster struck in the form of Delores Umbridge. Many Slytherins were advised by their parents to curry favor with the woman, so any admonishment from Severus to steer clear of her fell on deaf ears. When she was finally gone he wasted no time meting out consequences to her supporters.

"You took our prefect badges!" Draco accused shrilly as he and Pansy Parkinson rounded on Severus in the dungeon hallway shortly after Umbridge had been run from the castle in disgrace.

"And you," Snape hissed silkily pointing a long thin finger at each of them. "You took the side of that bloody …_woman_ against your own house."

Draco and Pansy looked at him with alarm. They had gotten used to some colorful language from their Head of House but never before had they heard him speak against another Hogwarts teacher.

"Take a good look at the hands of some of your house mates," he suggested in a low dangerous voice. "_I must not be insolent. I must not be late. I must not cheat."_ he quoted the various tattoos he'd seen thus far.

"But our badges..." Draco whined. It was the spoiled, selfish Draco, the one he had been trying to beat out of his sensitive, misunderstood godson for five years running.

"They were not _your_ badges," Snape said snidely as he took in Draco and Pansy with a fiery glance. "They were entrusted to you only. A trust that you shattered by aligning yourself with someone who caused your house mates harm."

"Father told me to get on her good side," Draco argued. "But that's right, _you don't agree with him on many things_," Draco mimicked the oft heard words. "Well I'm starting to agree with Father when he says he doesn't know what side you're on." Draco said nastily. "Madam Umbridge was clearly after the Gryffs."

"I'm on your side," Snape reminded him sternly. "And you're right. I do not agree with Lucius on many things. For example, when he uses my office to hex you to within an inch of your life as punishment for getting perfect marks, just because they are a few points behind Granger's, I don't agree with that. And when he uses a lash hex on your hands until they bleed just for failing to catch the snitch before Potter, I most certainly don't agree with that. Or you Miss Parkinson," he turned his angry gaze on Pansy. "When your parents indulge you more in your quest for diet potions and permanent glamours, in an effort to see to it you marry well rather than develop your own brain…"

Draco had grown so red an angry glimmer of color could be seen along the part in his blond hair.

"You know what I think?" Pansy asked, shaking with indignant rage. "I think you're a right bastard. That's what I think."

"And I think it's far too long since you've had a trip over my desk," Snape threatened. "Either of you," he said spearing Draco with a look as well.

"I like to see you try," the boy spat, apparently having taken leave of his senses.

"Splendid," Snape inclined his head menacingly. "It's a date. I suggest you work it out between you which one is bringing the candy and which the flowers," Snape quipped as he spun on his heel to go.

But in the end, he hadn't caned either of them. He simply reiterated his disappointment, and had given them room to cool off and lick their wounds until the term ended as he had the rest of the Umbridge's Inquisitional Squad.

To his shame, he had failed Draco badly by underestimating the effect of Lucius' imprisonment after the incident and the Department of Mysteries. Severus thought it was good the boy was sticking close to his mother that summer, but in fact he had been under the close tutelage of Bellatrix Lestrange, who had temporarily moved into the Manor to support her sister. Severus was caught painfully unaware when his godson took the Mark. When sixth year began and he had received the task of killing Albus, Severus feared he had lost him. He was immeasurably grateful that in recent weeks it had seemed that would not come to pass. It was all due to Draco himself thinking things through and making the difficult decisions. Snape was incredibly proud of how much the boy had grown. Perhaps this was making him feel doubly guilty for having hurt his pride so by rebuking him in front of Potter

Having come to a decision, Severus pushed himself from the plush chair in his sitting room. He transformed back into Goyle and had a careful look around the corridor before exiting his quarters. He was gratified that Minerva had allowed him to use them, though when he first arrived via her floo she had been noticeably ungracious. She had lamented that she'd need to come up with a plausible excuse for the Order Members who were currently patrolling the castle as to why Gregory Goyle was being allowed to bunk in Severus Snape's quarters. He hoped he wouldn't run in to any just yet.

When he made his way back to the Slytherin boys dorm he found Draco stretched out on his four poster alone in his room. He was reading from a potions book. It was not the school text, but a dubious paper cover version called, _The Best of the Brew: A Primer. _Severus waited a moment for the boy to acknowledge him as he stared at the animated cover photo of two young witches and a wizard laughing as they stood around a table top glass cauldron. When it became clear Draco would not speak, Severus gave him a light tap on his hip with the back of his hand to indicate he should shove over. The bed dipped slightly as he sat down beside the boy and Severus cleared his throat noisily.

"I may have been a bit sharp with you, especially given Potter was present," the older wizard ventured.

"Yes sir," the boy agreed not taking his eyes from the text.

"I _did_ mean the rebuke in earnest," Snape explained. "However, I believe doing so in front of Potter caused you undue embarrassment."

After a moment's silence Severus reached over and gently pushed the book down so it lay flat on the boy's chest and lifted Draco's chin with his hand.

"It's not that," Draco said irritably after a moment's silence. "It's just...Potter was being so...I don't know... disgustingly familiar," Draco tried to explain. "Didn't you want to hex him into next week?"

"When do I not want to hex Potter?" Snape quipped.

"It didn't look like you did," Draco opined sullenly.

"Where is Potter?" Snape asked, trying to cajole Draco into better humor with mock sternness. "I'll hex his overly familiar little arse right now," he stated, brandishing his wand.

"See that's just it," Draco stated with agitation coming up on one elbow and making the book tumble to the bed. "It's not just him. It's both of you," he tried to explain. "You say you'll hex him, but you won't really."

"Draco," Snape began patiently. "I threaten to hex my Slytherins almost constantly. How many times have I actually done it?" Snape winced inwardly at the fact he had just lumped Potter in with his Slytherins yet again.

"I guess you are not counting all the times you restrict someone to their quarters and those awful boils appear if they go out of bounds?" Draco asked.

"Certainly not," Snape replied haughtily. "That is a charm, not a hex."

"Hm," Draco frowned.

"You really want me to hex him because he was '_disgustingly familiar_'?" Snape asked in an amused tone.

"It's not just that, sir," Draco ventured carefully after holding his eyes for a moment. "It's just… I… you seem a bit fond of him is all," he said uncertainly.

"There's no need to be insulting," Snape huffed, not nearly as appalled as he would have like to have been. He was shocked by the realization.

"It's true," the boy argued. "You can hardly deny it…And the more shocking thing is he seems fond of you…"

"Stop!" Severus intoned sharply, holding up one hand to silence him. "I mean it, one more ill-mannered word from you and I shall go fetch William," he threatened in mock seriousness. "What are you reading anyway," he questioned, suddenly wanting to change the subject. Severus grabbed the book deftly with an index finger and flipped the spine to rest on his palm. The chapter Draco had been perusing was called, _Noche Suprema: Sleeping Never Was More Fun_.

"Perhaps I should fetch William at any rate?" Snape said looking from the book to the boy and lowering a dangerous eyebrow.

"You wouldn't, " Draco opined, suppressing a chuckle. "Not just for my reading about it."

"Would I not?" Snape responded "It has been far too long," he observed, delivering a sharp smack to the boy's backside as he rolled laughing from the bed to move himself out of range."

"I was thinking," Draco began suppressing a grin.

"Always a frightening proposition ," Snape said, turning to face him.

"How does the Dark Lord think you are going to lure Potter to the apparition barrier?"

The man quirked an inquisitive brow, interested against his will.

"I was just thinking…" the boy said again.

"So you claimed," the older wizard interrupted, a hint of impatience coloring his tone.

"It needs to sound very convincing," Draco continued in a rush. "I mean, Potter wouldn't just follow Goyle to the apparition barrier, without a good reason, but it might be believable to be lured there to harvest a restricted ingredient to make a recreational potion to celebrate his coming of age. So I went to find this book."

"Loaned to you by our mysterious Ravenclaw _girl,_" Snape opined doubtfully.

"Then I remembered that cottonfeather leaf grows just inside perimeter of the Forbidden Forest right near the barrier…"

"And you know this _how_?" Snape asked ominously.

"Uncle Severus," Draco intoned in a frustrated voice. "I'm seventeen."

"Which means you think you're too old for me to put you across my desk?" He questioned dangerously.

"I've thought that every since I was in third-year," Draco answered unfazed. "Fat lot of good it did then. But no. I only mean that I've been here long enough to know a few things," he explained. "Hell, everyone knows that many restricted plants grow inside the perimeter of Forbidden Forest," he opined. "I'm certain even your precious Potter knows that."

"My _p-precious_, _P-potter_?" Severus sputtered in shocked incredulity. "Oh, I shall certainly fetch William now."

One of the advantages of naming the willow cane William, was that Severus could blatantly threaten his students without seeming to do so. This came in very handy when he had reason to chastise a Slytherin in public. He had always kept his word to himself and them that he would never intentionally embarrass them by berating them in public as Albus had done so often with him.

He remembered coming across three of his Slytherin ruthlessly teasing a second year Hufflepuff in the corridor one evening.

"She's a little mudblood, what do you expect," one of his fifth year Slytherins was taunting cruelly.

"Aw, leave her alone," teased her companion in a baby voice. "She's a soft little Hufflepuff, you know how squishy they are."

"Look I think she's crying," another crowed.

Severus walked down the hall as though oblivious to the exchange.

"Have any of you seen William of late?" He asked casually barely breaking his stride as he passed the group. His query was answered with one muffled gasp and two slow, apprehensive shakes of the head. "Ah, it is no matter," he tossed over his shoulder offhandedly. "I am certain you will all encounter him before the day is out."

The unfortunate Hufflepuff probably assumed he did not hear the exchange or did not care. Only the miscreants knew what fate awaited them. The Slytherins would be punished for ganging up on another student. And although he had not officially made it against the rules to call a member of another house mudblood, Severus would certainly be thrashing them for that as well. Although he had used the word occasionally as a student, and more as a Death Eater, he did what he could to discourage its use among his students. He had taken to tanning Draco's hide weekly during his second year when the boy got into the habit of tossing that slur about.

William being William was useful when his students misbehaved in Potions class as well. He would often stop a student who turned in a substandard potion due to not paying proper attention before leaving his classroom.

"Your performance today was not quite what I had hoped," he would tell the student with false gentleness that only his Slytherins would recognize. "I believe you would benefit from a tutoring session with William and then you may come in on Saturday and repeat the potion."

It left the other houses complaining about favoritism and wondering who that William git in Slytherin was. There was often speculation he was a ghost. Only their own house mates would know how seriously they were being chastised.

One term Pansy Parkinson was particularly lax with her schoolwork. She was obviously spending more time researching elaborate hair charms and giggling at Draco than working on her essays. Severus warned her about it three weeks in a row before taking action.

"Ms. Parkinson, your essay still isn't quite up to standard," he said levelly, as he passed back the weekly homework for the Slytherin, Gryffindor Potions class. Please report for a tutoring session with William after your last class today and have the revision to me by tomorrow."

It caused the Weasley boy to complain in a low voice.

"Bloody Slytherins are always getting extra help," he grumbled to the other members of the trio. "Greasy bastard never lets us have extra time or help," he stated angrily.

If he had looked closely at Pansy Parkinson he may have noticed she was near tears at the prospect of getting _extra help_.

This particular incident must have been the last straw for the trio because a complaint of his favoritism made its way to Albus' ears. He called Severus up to his office to discuss it. It irked Severus no end how much influence Potter and his friends had at Hogwarts. It was painfully reminiscent of the Marauders. However, if Severus was honest, the trio did not have the mean mischievous streak of their predecessors. Although it rankled him no end to be questioned by the Headmaster due to a report from those Gryffindolts, Severus was pleased that Albus didn't have a leg to stand on.

"I should be delighted to give Mr. Weasley a tutoring session with William and allow him to rewrite his paper," Severus stated, his black eyes gleaming upon hearing the latest complaint that had arrived via Minerva. "Mr. Potter is welcome to join me for a session as well. I might also like to discuss with the both boys their use of the term _Greasy Bastard_."

"Don't be ridiculous, Severus," the headmaster admonished. "I am certainly not going to give you my permission to cane those boys, as much as you know I disapprove of you using it on your own students."

"Are you certain, Albus?" he asked in mock innocence. "It would be no trouble. After all, Potter and Weasley are my students as well, even if they are not in my house "

"Perhaps you might at least make them aware that you will accept their revisions as well," Albus suggested ignoring his query.

"The boys are friends with Ms. Granger, who has rewritten every essay she has ever received from me that was below an O," Severus stated.

"Miss Granger has never gotten a grade below O in your class, Severus," the Headmaster said in confusion.

"Yes," Severus explained with exaggerated patience. "That is because she has rewritten any grade below O since first year. I will admit she has never earned lower than an E. Although why the girl would want to rewrite an E is beyond me," Severus opined.

"I seem to recall you rewriting many an E throughout your years as a student, Severus," Albus said.

"That's because you would scold the hell out of me if you thought I wasn't doing my best," Severus stated, with a bit of heat.

"Ah, well perhaps Miss Granger's father is the same with her," he suggested, smiling affectionately.

"Are you comparing me to that know-it-all, Albus?" Severus asked snidely.

"Not at all, Severus. I was comparing your fathers," Albus said, his eyes twinkling. "And don't fret overmuch about my disapproval of William. Slytherin House is running smoothly, and it has been for years."

It took moment for the comment and the unexpected compliment to catch up with Severus, and his skin colored with pleasure. He let his long hair fall into his face for a moment to cover the emotion.

"You may go, Severus," Albus had said affectionately.

"Good day, Headmaster," he said making his way to the door.

"Although it would not be that great an insult if I were comparing you to Miss Granger," Albus put in before he could escape. "She is quite the brilliant young witch,"

As Severus made his way down the spiral staircase he chuckled about how the brilliant young witch had nearly begged him to be introduced to _that William from Slytherin_ to help improve her grades. He had been sorely tempted.

"Oh, please, Professor," the bushy haired girl had implored. "William must be brilliant."

"Be that as it may, Miss Granger," he had quipped. "Unfortunately at present, William is only available to assist the Slytherins."

"But that hardly seems fair," she had pouted.

"If the policy should ever change, Miss Granger," he promised with dark humor, "You and your friends will be the first to know."

That was the beauty of William, he could be referred to publicly and none but a select few would understand the reference. In the here and now, Potter could easily be present while the Potions Master playfully threatened Draco and the Gryffindor would not be any the wiser.

888

"What you think?" Draco asked in bright enthusiasm when he finished laying out his idea to say Potter was coaxed to the barrier by the temptation of an illegal recreational potion. Part of the enthusiasm was a ploy to cover the fact that he knew far too much about the potion.

Draco watched in curious apprehension as Snape narrowed his eyes.

"_Accio_," the older wizard said sternly as he raised one hand in the air.

Draco's curiosity turned to horror and his skin paled. Suddenly he was taken back to a time in third year. Draco had milked being injured by that beast Buckbeak, who was subsequently sentenced to death. The Professor burst into his dorm and ordered his house mates to leave. Draco had been subjected to a severe tongue lashing and threatened with the hiding of his life.

"I have a good mind to put your dishonest arse across my desk, you little imbecile," Snape had seethed at the boy.

Draco, in a fit of courageous idiocy, had complained

"It's just a stupid animal, Professor, and I think I'm a bit too old to be going across your desk," he declared insolently.

After only a moment's hesitation Snape had quietly seemed to agree with him. He stuck his hand in the air, much as he was doing now, and _Accio'ed_ William to Draco's dorm room. He then proceeded to put the boy across his knee, like he sometimes smacked the firsties, and wallop his arse. It had been the single most humiliating moment of his Hogwarts career to that point. The memory of the incident brought on by Snape's sternly uttered _Accio_ caused the blond boy hold up both his hands and wave them in protest.

"I was only trying to help, for the love of Merlin," he explained shrilly. "It was just an idea, Uncle Sev!"

"I'm aware of that Draco," Snape said smoothly as the never-out-quill he had summoned came to rest gently in his outstretched hand. A moment after, he snatched a sheet of parchment from the air as well. "It is an excellent idea," he said sitting back on the bed. He used the book Draco had been reading to support the parchment. "I shall write to the Dark Lord this instant," he stated, quirking an amused eyebrow at his godson.

Draco knew instantly the older wizard had been having him on. His godfather just loved messing with people's heads.

"Bastard," Draco muttered, as he flopped down beside the older wizard, causing Snape to cuff the back of his head and quirk one side of his mouth up in a half smile. He took a moment to gently ruffle the blond boy's hair before settling in to write. When Draco contemplated the familiar gesture it suddenly became clear why it bothered him so much that Snape had cuffed Potter. When Snape cuffed one of his Slytherins on the back of the head, the gesture, even if delivered sharply, was often oddly affectionate. If the intent was truly affectionate, Snape would often stop to card his fingers through the student's hair as he did with Draco now, or sometimes he might give their neck or shoulder a little squeeze. Draco didn't even know if Snape did this consciously, but he had never seen his Head of House do it to any student who wasn't a Slytherin.

"Where is Potter?" Snape asked after he had completed the note to the Dark Lord. Draco thought the missive sounded like a proper little update on his progress thus far.

"I dunno," the boy grumbled moodily. "We had a bit of a row, I think."

"Indeed?" Severus intoned.

"Yes," Draco offered petulantly. "And it was all his fault. You should have heard the outrageous things he said," Draco couldn't really think of anything that Potter had said that was outrageous, but the mornings events had put him in a bit of a mood.

"Hm," Snape murmured.

"You should hex him," Draco said hopefully

"Draco..."

"Come on Uncle Sev, you've been taunting me with William for the last twenty minutes, the least you can do is hex Potter. I bet the little brat has never gotten a proper thrashing in his life."

888

Severus could attest to the fact that Potter had received at least one sound thrashing quite recently. The boy himself and wisps of Occlumency images more than hinted at countless others.

"You'd be surprised Draco." he told his godson. "But if he's not working on his essay..." Snape said as he made his way to the door. "I'll consider it just for you."

As Severus entered the common room, he heard voices coming from the girl's dorm, and realized that Potter was not working on his essay.

"So you could actually use the web to wrap someone up?" Potter was asking Dobby when the Potions Master entered the girls dormitory.

The boy was sitting in the hall on a tidy four poster that had obviously been moved from one of the rooms. Dobby sat across from him on the couch that normally occupied the hallway.

"Research, Potter?" Severus asked as he took a seat next to Dobby in the comfortable make shift room. Potter had positioned a small desk and chair at the foot of his bed and a handsome maple trunk served as a sort of coffee table between the couch and four poster.

"Sort of," the boy said enthusiastically. "Dobby and I were just going over the stuff Draco and I learned this week and also the stuff I worked at Mrs. Figg's house. I'm trying to think of what spells might help us with the Death Eaters when they try to capture us."

Against his will, Severus felt a burst of pride at both boys for trying to puzzle out how to make the mission a success. He had been avoiding the issue ever since Albus revealed how drastically their mission had changed.

"And this has to do with your essay revision how?" He decided to heckle the boy. He almost felt guilty about the way the young face fell.

"Well…nothing," the boy replied uncertainly. "But isn't this a tad more important, sir? I can't believe you're making me revise that ruddy essay anyway."

He couldn't fault the boy his logic. He wondered vaguely why he was insisting on being so bloody stubborn about it. Perhaps it was because he was so bloody stubborn.

"While I tend to agree with you on both counts, Potter," he told the boy. "I am hardly likely to tell you that you do not have to revise it now that I have already instructed you to do so. It only took you forty-five minutes to compose the first version," he offered placatingly. "It should not take you much longer to revise it."

"But why is it so important given what we have going on in the next couple of days?"

Severus thought sadly that the boy didn't know the half of it. He had not been privy to the latest chapter of his prophecy.

"I suppose the only importance at this point is that you were told to do it, and I'm still holding on the faint hope that you might learn something akin to obedience some day soon," he explained dryly.

"Fine, I'll start," the boy agreed petulantly. "I have the perfect book in my room at the beach house actually," he said wistfully.

Severus thought for the briefest of moments and then came to a decision.

"Come," he said beckoning the boy with his arm as he got up from the couch.

"Where?" Harry wanted to know.

"There is no reason you can not complete your revision there," he offered mildly.

"We can go all the way to the beach house?" Harry asked, excitedly.

"Potter, it is as close as the portrait in the kitchen," Snape said with some amusement. "Not to mention we could also apparate in a moment's time. I shall floo Minerva to let her know," he said making his way to the door. "You have been staying in here?" he said looking around the cozy hallway once more.

"Yes," Harry admitted.

"Why did you help Draco tidy up then?" Snape wanted to know.

"Well it was the least I could do. He's been ever so kind to me," the boy quipped sarcastically. "Bloody arsehole," he muttered barely loud enough for the Potions Master to hear.

"I'm certain you'd like to mind your language?" Snape warned.

"No, I'm not sure I would," Harry told him cheekily. Snape cuffed the boy lightly on the back of the head, and as they made their way from the common room he gave his neck a little squeeze.

**_Hope you enjoyed it. Don't forget to review._**

**Chapter 30**

**Lead Us Not**

The Gryffindors and Slytherins were at least refraining from hexing each other, and Harry tried to breathe a bit easier. Still, they were glaring daggers across the Great Hall, and Ron in particular took exception to Harry standing on the side of the room with the snakes. Only he of his two companions realized the significance, when the red head threw a tiny pellet at Goyle's feet. All at once a tall wizard in bright robes with an impressive white beard loomed over the wide eyed Slytherin.

"You _will_ obey me in this young man. I'll not stand for a moment more of your defiance," the Boggart warned sternly, its pale blue eyes flashing.

Almost as one the Weasleys exploded in gales of laughter.

"Dumbledore," Fred and George guffawed. "Goyle's biggest fear is Dumbledore?"


	30. Lead Us Not

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

**Authors Notes: **Thanks so much for all your reviews.

**excessivelyperky **is totally and completely brilliant. Thanks so much for your edits and insight.

I'd like a to give a huge shout-out to **Big Stew** for helping me out on this chapter. Thanks a bunch **Stew**. You rock!

**Heather **of Sacramento California suggested the location for the last Horcrux. Many thanks **Heather**!

**Enjoy **

**Chapter 30**

**Lead Us Not**

Harry stood behind the bright, floral couch in the front room of the beach house and tried not to fidget. Snape lay in seeming comfort upon its thick cushions and caught the ocean breeze from the open window as he read the boy's revised essay. It was actually the second revision. The first one Snape read over carefully, gave Harry an appraising look and claimed the argument he had outlined in the eighth and ninth paragraphs needed clarification. Harry had been irritated. He was tired of the ruddy thing. In addition to citing a source for the _Nochebuena_ derivatives Malfoy suggested mentioning, Harry took into account Snape's comment that the illegal potion, _Noche Suprema_, stunted your magical growth. He referred to pertinent information from _Of Ordinary Darkness_ on how prolonged use of such a potion could affect your magical receptors, thereby making it difficult to reach magical maturity.

"Oh, _come on_, sir!" Harry moaned in exasperation when the older wizard ordered yet another revision.

Snape merely quirked an eyebrow and indicated with a rather casual gesture that Harry should return to his room. He gave the man a petulant look, which Snape ignored as he stretched to a more comfortable position on the couch. He looked irritatingly relaxed as he rested the huge Defense against the Dark Arts tome on his chest and continued to read.

Harry stomped noisily back to his room, and wondered if the additional revision was perhaps punishment for embarrassing Snape earlier when they lunched at O'Brien's Tavern in town. He could almost hear Draco's voice in his head telling him that Snape would go _'straight dark wizard_' if any of his Slytherins embarrassed him with their behavior. Harry could also picture the blond boy sneering that Harry wasn't a Slytherin, so he need not worry about it.

When Snape and Harry had arrived in town earlier the streets were bustling with activity. It was already half twelve and Harry's stomach was starting to complain a bit. As though in answer to that complaint, Robert O'Brien stepped from his restaurant just as the two wizards were passing by.

"Ah, there you are then!" The Irishman announced jovially as though he had been expecting them. "You're looking fit Severus. Of course you'll be stayin' for lunch," he stated with certainty, a big, broad smile on his face.

Harry hoped Snape would not refuse, and was pleasantly surprised when the man put on an indulgent expression and allowed himself to be led into the restaurant by the burly redhead.

"I don't have any Muggle money," Harry admitted in a low voice as the cheerful man left, having given them each a menu and a hearty slap on the back.

"No?" Snape questioned with a blank expression. "I'm not certain how you are going to eat then," he frowned in seeming confusion. "Perhaps you can just watch me, or you could always go and steal something from the kitchen."

Harry's face colored bright red at the reference to his earlier stupidity. He had tripped the silent alarm while stealing food from O'Brien's back kitchen and had subsequently been marched back home by the giant Irishman to answer for it to Snape. The Potions Master had been amazingly lenient, but apparently he was not above teasing Harry about it. Harry was fairly certain Snape was joking about watching him eat as well, but he didn't have a chance to ask before Robert returned.

"Sure and it's grand seeing you both," the man said melodically, as Harry smiled and took in the place with its dull hardwood flooring and square wooden benches and tables with clear plastic covering the surfaces.

"I think I'll start with a Guinness," Snape told Robert when the man took a little order pad from his apron after placing two waters on the table.

They both looked at Harry expectantly.

"Erm...water?" the boy said uncertainly, still not having resolved who would be paying. He picked up the glass and took a delicate sip.

"Yes, that's water, Potter," Snape said in a tone that was partly mocking and part amusement. "You'll note its lack of color and taste. Would you like something else to drink as well?"

"Always the School Master, eh Severus?" Robert said teasingly

"Guinness _does_ sound good," the boy said, matching the tones of both men and smiling innocently.

"Indeed it does," Snape agreed. "Milk for the boy, I think, Robert," he said to O'Brien, who chuckled as he wrote it down.

Harry made a bit of a face, then shrugged

"Thought I'd try," he said evenly. "But I _will_ be of age in a bit," Harry added.

"Oh?" Robert asked amiably. "You have a birthday coming then, do you Harry?"

"Yes, sir," the young man admitted with a bit of excitement. "I'll be seventeen tomorrow."

"Ah," the man said with a conspiratorial wink. "Completely grown up is still a ways off then. 'Fraid I'm with your Da on this one."

Harry was just bringing the water glass to his mouth again when an abrupt barking guffaw escaped his lips at Robert's use of the word _Da_. He had nearly forgotten the man had mistaken him for Snape's son, and it had quickly become too complicated an error to correct. The boy covered the laugh as best he could and coughed forcefully into his hand.

"You all right there, Harry?" O'Brien asked looking from Harry to Severus with concern.

When Harry caught the older wizard's eye, his expression had taken on a warning edge, and Harry did his best to contain his amusement.

"Yes, sir. I'm fine," Harry assured O'Brien and vaguely indicated the water glass. "I just...uh," a hicuppy sort of giggle escaped and he quickly took another sip of water. "I'm fine, sir."

Harry bit his lip to compose himself, while he stared at the menu.

"We still serve pumpkin juice," Robert offered brightly. "Started serving it when Albus first began bringing Severus here. That was your Da's drink when he was a boy. Would you like to try that, Harry?"

"I love pumpkin juice," Harry admitted, his voice pitched a bit higher than normal.

"Well that's it then," the redhead winked. "Like father like son, I reckon."

"Have you a...?" Harry squeaked, and got hurriedly to his feet. "I just need to um..." he mimed washing his hands.

"Past the bar to your left," Robert said, as he cottoned on. "Gents are to the right."

Harry near bit a hole in the inside of his cheek to contain his laughter as he made his way to the loo.

Snape seemed quite irritated when he returned. Harry didn't know whether it was because he had caused a bit of scene or due to his table manners, which the older wizard proceeded to chastise with gusto the moment the boy retook his seat.

"_Elbows off the table, boy. Must you make that infernal noise! Sit up straight. Need I explain the use of a napkin again?"_

Harry just answered with a steady stream of quiet _yes sirs_, _no sirs_ and, _sorry sirs_ and didn't taste a bit of the steamy shepherd's pie and brown bread Snape had ordered for them both.

He got a slight reprieve when Robert brought his father, Liam, over to greet the two. Harry recognized the man. He was a bit older, but Harry had seen him in Snape's memory of the day the picture on the mantel at the beach house was taken. After shaking Snape's hand heartily and saying how wonderful it was to see him, Liam gave Harry a friendly, appraising look.

"This is your boy then, Severus?" Liam asked smiling.

Harry looked at Snape. The man's look fairly dared him to cause another spectacle.

"Harry, sir," the boy smiled politely as he shook the old man's hand. "I'm very pleased to meet you, sir."

"Ah, he's a fine lad, Severus," the man said patting Harry's shoulder and gripping his hand. "That's clear for all with eyes to see."

"And a handsome lad to boot," Robert opined with a fond wink in Harry's direction.

Harry flushed crimson when Snape pointed out that he had his mother's eyes. This was all really too bizarre. Liam and Robert sat and visited for a while. Harry pondered the fact that two men acted so fond of him already, but he quickly realized it was because they were so fond of Snape and thought Harry was his son. It was a truly a peculiar concept. Robert and Snape bantered like old school chums and Harry was impressed by the way Snape skirted their many inquires without ever telling an out-and-out lie. After exchanging final pleasantries and heartfelt condolences about the Headmaster, the two Irishmen left the wizards to their meal.

Harry noticed the meeting seemed to have mellowed Snape a bit.

"Sorry about earlier," the boy ventured. "I guess I...I was rude, maybe...laughing and running off to the toilet like that?"

Snape merely grunted noncommittally, but the lighter mood seemed to take root, and Harry breathed a bit easier. _Malfoy's right_, the boy thought. _I think I am kissing his arse_.

"What were you and Draco fighting about earlier?" The man asked after a bit.

"Fighting?" Harry responded. "We weren't fighting, really. Who said we were fighting?"

Snape merely quirked an eyebrow and waited.

"Well maybe Draco was fighting, but I wasn't," Harry said truthfully.

"And what were you not fighting about?" Snape probed, apparently not buying it.

"Well," Harry began irritably. "The nearest I could figure out was that he didn't like the way I was speaking to you, and I'm not a Slytherin, so I wouldn't understand."

Snape raised an eyebrow in a bit of surprise at the last.

"Perhaps you should have confided in him that you were nearly sorted into Slytherin," Snape suggested nonchalantly taking a swallow of his Guinness. There was ample evidence of creamy foam still visible on its surface.

"Bloody, buggering hell," Harry whistled. "You know about that?"

"Mind your language, boy!" Snape hissed sternly as he glanced around at the other patrons, and in the direction of the O'Briens, presumably to see if they were being overheard.

"How did you know that?" Harry asked in disbelief.

Snape was still scowling in disapproval.

"Right, language," Harry agreed impatiently. "I'm sorry. I will. But how did you know about it?"

"Albus made me aware of it after you had been sorted," Snape explained.

"Made you aware of it?" Harry asked in confusion. "Boy you must have really hated me to know I had blown off your house that way," Harry speculated. "That was part of it, wasn't it? Why you and I got off on the wrong foot."

After a lengthy pause the older wizard didn't answer, but he posed another question.

"Why did you," he frowned at the phrase, _"blow off_ my house?"

The question was a bit harder to answer than Harry would have thought.

"I think I just..." he began. "I just wanted to do well...you know?"

Snape's perplexed expression clearly indicated he did not know.

"I'd heard that all dark wizards came from Slytherin," Harry explained. "Ron told me during the sorting..."

"So on the word of that dunderhead..." Snape began, seemingly more offended than before.

"He was my first friend, and I'd just found out I was a wizard," Harry pointed out, talking over the interruption. "I just wanted to do really well is all, although the hat said I'd be great in Slytherin."

"Did it indeed?" Snape asked, as if this bit of information was news.

"But then there was Draco," Harry admitted. "He had insulted Ron, so I didn't want to be in Slytherin when I saw that was where he had been sorted."

"So it was on the word of not one but two dunderheads," Snape intoned snidely.

Harry was a trifle shocked to hear Snape refer to Draco as a dunderhead, although perhaps he shouldn't have been, given the way Snape had gotten after him earlier. Harry surprised himself by defending the blonde wizard.

"I think he was just trying to make friends actually," Harry offered. "He came and introduced himself. Then Ron snickered, and Draco made a comment about the Weasleys. He said some wizarding families were better than others.

"That sounds very like Draco," Snape admitted, taking another sip of his Guinness.

"Would you have been nicer to me if I had been sorted into your house?" Harry wanted to know.

"I would not say _nice_ precisely," Snape replied sardonically. "I am certain none of my students would categorize me as _nice_."

"No, I don't imagine they would," Harry agreed wryly. "Draco said you were a bit harder on your Slytherins than met the eye. Would you have let me play Quidditch my first year?" Harry asked brightly, like he was trying to come up with a benefit for making a different decision.

"I would have punished you severely for riding your broom after another teacher had expressly forbidden it," Snape stated with flat certainty.

Harry was silent for a moment as he took a sip of pumpkin juice.

"You _really_ would have kept me off the team?" The boy asked playfully. "Come on! I was the youngest player at Hogwarts in a century according to McGonagall."

"Indeed," Snape intoned snidely. "I am surprised you do not yet have your own chocolate frog card."

"I bet you would have let me play. How could you resist all those Slytherin Quidditch victories?" Harry asked enticingly.

"I can see the card now," Snape raised one hand as he gazed in the air, as though he really _could_ see it. "It would feature you on your trusty Firebolt with the golden snitch in your teeth." He looked down at Harry. "As I recall, that_ is_ where you caught it that first game?"

Harry reddened but was highly amused.

"Emblazoned across the top of the card in bold gothic letters it would read: _Harry Potter: The-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-A-Pain-In-My-Arse_," Snape said with a flourish. "Your many _other_ accomplishments would be detailed on the back, of course."

Harry could not help laughing.

"If you had let me play, it would have meant the House Cup for Slytherin," Harry suggested airily. "I guess you never cared much about that."

Snape looked like he was wavering for a moment and then he replied.

"Since you received that for your daring expedition to find the Sorcerer's Stone," he replied snidely. "Your house would have won the Cup regardless. I'd have punished you for that bit of arrogant bravado as well, not to mention the earlier incident with the troll."

"Sounds like I would have spent a lot of time getting my arse tanned and mucking out the toilets in the middle of the night without magic," Harry stated simply. "I got an awful lot of that from my uncle and aunt. Only difference with you would be, at least I would be getting punished for something I had actually done. Still, you're not making much of a case for your house, sir."

If Snape was surprised that Draco had revealed so much about how he dealt with his Slytherins, he gave no indication.

"Indeed," he said as he took a long drink from his beer. "I am certain that is not the only difference between myself and your wonderful Muggle relatives?"

"True," Harry admitted. "Merlin, you're nothing like them actually."

"I should think not," Snape affirmed in a haughty tone.

"Maybe I wouldn't have gotten into so much trouble if I was in your house," Harry speculated.

"I am certain that is correct," Snape stated plainly.

"But still," Harry continued. "Saving the stone and all that _was _important. The Headmaster actually seemed to encourage it. I mean, who the hell gives an eleven year old an invisibility cloak?"

"It would not have been my first choice," Snape admitted sardonically.

"Maybe you would have even been in on saving the stone if I was in your house," Harry said. He was warming to the subject for some reason.

"Potter, who do you think hauled your unconscious little arse out of that chamber first year?"

"Dumbledore, I thought," Harry admitted dumbly.

Snape made a doubtful noise.

"Not that you and your golden trio ever deigned to ask for help from an adult," Snape offered snidely.

"Sure we did!" Harry stated, offended. "We tried to tell McGonagall…well actually we tried to tell her and Hagrid that _you _were after the stone."

The Potions Master lifted an amused eyebrow.

"If I was in your house I would have known different though, and we'd have been after Quirrell. McGonagall wouldn't even listen," Harry complained. "Hagrid did listen—sort of, but he thought we were wrong."

"And so you were," Snape said shaking his head with that little half smile he sometimes wore now.

"Not completely," Harry argued. "Hang on," he said after a brief pause. "Would that have blown your cover as a spy?" Instead of waiting for an answer the boy continued. "But you didn't know Quirrell had Voldemort hanging out of the back of his head did you, so it wouldn't have been a problem, would it? And it would have made sense that you would try to save the stone, right?"

"Are all of those questions rhetorical? The man asked when the boy finally stopped to draw a breath.

Harry ducked his head and blushed a bit to have babbled on so. Still, he imagined loads of things that would have been different if he had allowed himself to be sorted into Slytherin. He'd bet Snape would have been a major part of rescuing the stone his first year. _I _bet_ he would have let me play Quidditch too_, Harry thought. _I may have gotten in trouble first, but I bet he would have let me play_.

"Are you all done there?" Snape asked, sipping the last of his beer.

"Yeah," Harry said, as he drank the last of his pumpkin juice and got to his feet. He was about to wad his napkin up and throw it in his plate when Snape stopped him.

"Fold it Potter," he instructed. "When it is the cloth kind, it is nice to refold it."

Harry looked at Snape's place and copied setting the folded napkin to the side of his plate.

"Oi, I get it," he offered. "That way the next bloke can use it too,"

Harry made a big show of placing the napkin with the gravy stain down.

Snape cuffed him on the back of the head and gave his neck a little squeeze. _Merlin, but that felt good_, Harry thought as the man maintained his grip on his neck to gently steer him toward the front of the restaurant. Snape had done that earlier too. It felt a bit like the time he had squeezed his shoulder. Harry imagined briefly that this was how his dad might touch him if he were still alive. The boy looked up and saw the O'Brien's standing near the door and suddenly he thought it was kind of nice and not funny at all that they had mistaken he and Snape for father and son.

The O'Brien's chatted them up for another ten minutes before they finally made their way home. Robert had staunchly refused to allow Snape to pay the bill, and the wizard had finally acquiesced.

"All right, but we'll have to have you up for tea sometime soon," Snape told the man.

Harry thought about if or when that would ever happen, and pondered how surreal things were in Glenbiegh. Their walk to the beach house was quiet but companionable. However, when they arrived Snape ordered Harry rather sternly to his room to get started on his essay. After he had done a completely acceptable job, Snape had made him do the ruddy thing again. Consequently, Harry found himself in the living room of the beach house shifting from foot to foot as he ran his finger along the floral pattern of the couch and praying he would not have to revise the paper yet a third time.

"Outstanding," the man intoned finally, as he handed back the parchment and interrupted the boy's musings.

"You mean if I had written this at school you would give me an O?" Harry asked sarcastically as he resisted the urge to crumple the parchment and send it sailing out the open window.

"Indeed," Snape intoned. "Your previous revision Exceeded Expectations," the man admitted swinging his legs to a sitting position. "However, your first draft was merely Acceptable."

"An E?" Harry said incredulously "You made me revise an E? Who the bloody buggering hell _revises_ an _E_?" _Who revises an A, come to that_, Harry thought irritably.

"Your friend Miss Granger for one," Snape offered. "Were you truly unaware of that?" He asked after a thoughtful moment.

"You can't be comparing me to Hermione!" He complained shrilly. "Bugger that! I mean, I love her and everything, but she's effing mental about school work!"

"I know a lovely spell I can teach you if you can not puzzle out how to monitor your language and volume," Snape threatened casually.

"Sorry," Harry replied. "I think you're rubbing off on me," he explained cheekily.

"The spell would improve your attitude as well," Snape quipped dryly. "Miss Granger's mental health aside. Although I agree that it is inconceivable that a student would voluntarily rewrite an E, I am hardly likely to let you get by with substandard performance now that I know your are capable of more."

Harry had the feeling there was a compliment in there somewhere so he kept quiet.

888

Severus was loathe to admit it but he was rather enjoying the boy's antics and almost felt bad for having him revise the essay a second time. He had the feeling Potter thought he was being punished for his behavior in the restaurant, which although amusing, had demonstrated an extreme lack of self-discipline to say the least. The boy had better learn to face the unexpected with a stony countenance and a well-occluded mind if he expected to best the Dark Lord. However, it was on the topic of besting the Dark Lord, rather than punishment for his ridiculous behavior that prompted Snape to have Harry revise the essay a second time. On a very basic level it had given Snape a chance to think and study on Albus' recent news without being disturbed. The conversation in the restaurant about how things may had been different if Harry had been sorted into Slytherin brought home to Severus, that official Slytherin or no, Harry was his responsibility and always had been. He had saved the boy's life countless times and certainly more than the boy knew. If the Headmaster had admonished him on the subject once, he had done it a thousand times.

"You must keep Harry safe, Severus," the old man would say often. "Harry's well-being is your primary responsibility."

If the Headmaster's was correct about the prophecy, then Harry and Severus both would experience more darkness in the next few days than either or them had ever encountered. In Severus' case that was saying something, but Albus would not budge from his assessment. The burden of seeing the boy through that darkness lay squarely on Severus shoulders. Seldom did the man feel so overwhelmed, but when he did it usually manifested itself in the sort of quiet inaction and procrastination he was engaging in today. It was a bit like the night he had been awaiting his turn in the circle of Death Eaters to curse Draco on the Dark Lord's orders. Being too overwhelmed to think of anything, he simply stood there and hoped something good would happen. And something good _had_ happened in the form of a bare chested boy in baggy pajama trousers. It was the same skinny boy who was destined to save the Wizarding World, but apparently only with the help and intervention of Severus Snape.

The third chapter of Severus' prophecy decreed that as the seventh month died the Half-Blood Prince would be confronted with his own death, and the One-With-The-Power-To-Vanquish- The-Dark-Lord would be thrice led into temptation of extreme evil. None but the elder child of prophecy could lead the younger through this darkness and naught but love would see them through. This love had been destined to grow with a will of its own once the elder child opened the way for it, and would reach its peak during the summer of temptation as the seventh month died. While Severus had grown fond of the boy as Draco had pointed out, and he knew from the Occlumency link that the feeling was somewhat mutual, he didn't know if there was anything near like love between them. Albus explained that failure would cost both wizards not only their lives, but their souls as well, and lay the fate of Wizardkind at Voldemort's feet. Success would earn Severus redemption, spare Harry's life, and bring about the ultimate triumph for the Light.

While naught but love would see them through, Albus insisted it was a love that had to come from Harry's essential goodness. And though Snape was to see him through the darkness, Harry's actions could not be coerced or influenced in any way by the other wizard. Severus was having difficulty accepting that it was too late to at least influence the boy. He spent the time while Harry was working on his essay looking up Defense against the Dark Arts disciplines that were anchored in love. Most were too complex to master in the time they had. Albus insisted that whatever choices Harry made when confronted with temptation would be based on the development of his feelings for Severus to date. While there was little he could do to change that relationship at this point, there would be nothing he could do to communicate with the boy once he was in the throes of temptation.

It was obviously the bit about Harry's choices being based on his feelings for Severus that troubled Snape most. Severus felt like this was the type of information he should have been given long ago.

"It had more to do with the development of your, soul and character, Severus," Albus told him. "You were not meant to be influenced by the wording of the prophecy."

However, Albus _had_ tried to influence him, and although the Headmaster had spared him from saying 'I told you so,' Severus couldn't help feeling that if he had spent a bit more time getting to know Harry earlier on, they would be in much better shape now. Their relationship had developed much in just a short while and with just a bit of openness from Severus. He had to admit he was amazed at what a forgiving child Harry was. Twice thus far the boy had questioned Severus' capacity to like him more or be nicer to him. However, not once had there been an accusatory and well deserved, _Why were you such a cruel bastard to me?_

Severus had been waiting for the angry and scathing demand that he account to him for the Headmaster's demise. It was not as though the boy had forgiven or forgotten the incident, but he seemed to have quickly deduced that there was more to it than was readily apparent. The boy had somehow put questions about it aside in favor of what seemed an almost natural willingness to allow his relationship to develop with Severus. The older wizard had seen it on the boy's face as Harry almost gleefully contemplated what life would have been like in Slytherin. This reaction was almost surreal after six years of what they had gone through, and somehow it proved there were far greater elements at work.

Their situation would be very different if Severus had gone about things otherwise. They were alike, he and Harry, not only alike but connected. Albus said it often. He was thankful that the older wizard had not taken the opportunity at this late date to reprimand him for his many mistakes and shortcomings regarding Harry. Severus tried not to slip into the spiral of negativity and blame, by thinking, as he often did, that Albus had made just as many mistakes with Harry as he had. And perhaps if Albus had done things differently maybe he would have too.

Before their conversation had ended this morning, Albus revealed that the catalyst for Harry's confrontation with evil and Severus' facing death would be a seeming betrayal by Severus. And the old man ordered, as he had ordered so many terrible things before, that instead of allowing Harry to escape when Voldemort's followers tried to bring him to the Dark Lord on his birthday, Severus was to make sure the boy was captured. Minerva had balked at this bit of news. She berated him shrilly for even considering following such orders. She went so far as to threaten to come through the floo and box his ears for him. When she was done slicing him to shreds with her sharp Scottish tongue, Severus had gone to take out frustration on Draco and Harry. He knew she was right, he shouldn't even consider following such appalling orders.

Albus explained that if Severus were to attempt to warn Harry of the betrayal beforehand it would doom them to failure. The older wizard did present him with one hope, however. He told Severus that if he and Harry should fail, they would be given a brief window of opportunity where they might undo a crucial mistake in an effort to change the outcome. Albus couldn't be more specific than that. It was just as well Severus thought, as it was already way too much information to process.

"What are you reading?" Harry asked, as he lifted the cover of the book Severus had been perusing, and startled the older wizard from his thoughts.

He hadn't noticed the boy sit down next to him and had to resist the urge to place a hand on his shoulder. Severus had been compelled to touch the boy more and more often. At times it was near overwhelming and was no doubt due to those other forces at work, which connected them via the prophecies. If he wasn't careful he would be embracing the child before night fall. After a moment of staring into those inquisitive green eyes he lost his battle, and gave in to the impulse, and gave the boy's shoulder a firm pat.

"I am reading," he said and noted the boy's smile at his touch, "a book on defense spells that use love as their primary focus. Come," he ordered getting to his feet. "It's been far too long since we've had an Occlumency lesson and I'd also like to look through Nagini's memories before we return to Hogwarts."

Before Harry's expression could brighten much further, he offered a warning.

"I am going to try to Legillimize you like I used to when I was first teaching you fifth year. Have you been practicing keeping your shields up all the time as I told you?"

"Yes, sir," the boy said uncertainly.

"I might knock you on your arse a bit, but do your best to keep me out, all right?"

He waited for the boy's determined nod before he spoke.

"Legillimens," he intoned, brandishing his wand.

An hour later he offered Harry his hand to help him up from what had become his regular spot to be bounced on the hardwood floor. Despite Severus' earlier fear of embracing the younger wizard before nightfall, he impulsively found himself offering the battered boy a loose, one armed hug.

"You did extremely well, Harry," he told the young man as he released him. "Fight like that against the Dark Lord and I think we have a chance."

The boy reddened as he seemed to bask in the warm glow of the compliment, and probably the hug and Severus' use of his given name, all of which had been offered without conscious effort or thought. The older wizard colored a bit as well at his growing lack of control around the boy. Despite all his time on the floor he had fought Severus off at every attempt. At one point the Potions Master had tried to cross the band of emotion. Although it was a place in Harry's consciousness that Severus had been allowed before, indeed it was their place together, Harry did not lose sight of the lesson and fought as he would Voldemort. He somehow increased the intensity of the emotions. Severus didn't know how he managed it, but was sure it would not be something Voldemort could stand. Severus himself could scarce withstand the pressure. And the boy had somehow pushed him out even as Severus had tried his hardest to break through. Harry also threw up false leads and dead ends that would certainly give Voldemort a run for his galleons.

"I am compelled to ask," Severus began curiously, as they settled onto the couch again. "How did you become so adept so quickly?" The man thought perhaps he had been practicing with Draco in his absence.

"It helps to think of it like defense," Harry admitted. "The way you explained it last lesson was really good. I just watch which way your attacking and defend the same way I would block a hex or curse in a duel," the boy smiled. "I've been practicing different blocks in my head since last time, but I had no idea whether or not they were working till I practiced against someone. I thought about practicing with Draco, but I didn't know if you would want me to," the boy admitted.

The fact that the boy had moderated his behavior because he wasn't sure whether or not it would displease him touched Severus. It also illustrated yet again those light magic forces that had been drawing them closer and closer over the course of the summer. The forces would have been present much earlier in their relationship if they had merely opened themselves up to them sooner. Of course, Severus could not blame Harry. It had been up to him to begin the process.

"You'd be surprised at how readily Harry would respond," Albus often scolded, "if you would show him just the smallest bit of compassion."

Such words had made Severus balk, pout and flat out deny Albus' grip on reality.

"He is a willful, disobedient boy, Headmaster," Severus argued the year Harry showed up for school in a flying car. "What he needs is a sound thrashing, not a pat on the head and to be told what a good lad he is," Severus had railed.

"Perhaps he needs both, Severus," the old man responded.

"He gets far too much of the latter from you, Headmaster," Severus maintained. "You unfortunately have forbidden me from the former. I haven't noticed that your indulgence has improved the brat's behavior."

"He needs a bit of indulgence from you, Severus," the old man had admonished. "You and Harry are bound by prophecy. What about that do you not comprehend?"

There had obviously been much about it he had not comprehended, although he had staunchly denied it at the time. It was made plain in how much Harry and his feelings for each other had changed over the summer once Severus had opened up the way, as the prophecy said. If he had to trace the development back to its beginning, he knew it had started the time he discovered the boy studying and inventing blocks in the middle of the night at Number 10 Privet Drive. Instead of downgrading the boy's progress, as he might have done another time, he praised him for his efforts. The praise was extremely restrained, but Severus saw the boy's face color with pleasure and his eyes light up.

That had been the beginning for Harry. Surprisingly, paddling the boy with Gryffindor's sword had not stalled the growth of his feelings and had oddly strengthened them. Severus had been tremendously guilty afterwards. Anger, fear and a general dislike of the boy had motivated his actions. But Harry's reaction had been like that of one of his more level headed Slytherins after a punishment they felt was well deserved. Severus' students generally rebelled against receiving a hiding when they reached Harry's age. The Potions Master avoided it at all costs, although he was not above threatening it. But the boy had seemed accepting of the punishment and regretful of his behavior. There was none of the expected indignation of the appropriateness given his age, nor the furious railing of how dare Severus lay a hand on him in the first place. Instead the harsh action had somehow deepened the boy's feelings for him.

Severus realized it when Albus confided that the main reason Harry disobeyed and went to rescue Draco, was because he couldn't bear the thought of Severus having to hex the boy. It was upon witnessing Harry's rescue of his childhood enemy that Severus' own feelings for the child began to change. Severus remembered thinking, quite uncharacteristically, that Harry looked a bit like an angel. His scrawny arms seemed oddly strong as he held Draco and apparated them away. Snape's dislike turned to fondness quite unexpectedly and quite against his will. Severus had deftly tried to beat those feelings of fondness into submission. It had been a losing battle, he realized now. And as with so many mistakes, he thought perhaps now he had been going about it the wrong way.

The fondness could have grown much deeper and might easily be something recognizable as love, if only Severus had understood things a bit earlier. He was certain he did not fully understand them now. However, now he was sure that his relationship with Harry had never needed to be the coddling indulgent variety Albus modeled so well.

The boy had been enthralled in his earlier fantasies about life in Slytherin, even after Severus' pronouncement that he would have no doubt been punished for many of the actions that Minerva had let him get away with and Albus at times, outright encouraged.

While speaking to Albus about the prophecy Severus had been desperate for more clarification about what it all meant. He all but whined that if he had demanded more clarification of the earlier chapters of his prophecy, he might not be in such a difficult situation now.

"You must remember that I am not the author of these prophecies, dear boy," the older wizard chided, his eyes ever twinkling madly.

One of the few things Albus would be clear on was that even if Severus and Harry did succeed, it didn't mean everything was all said and done.

"Once you have succeeded, there is still the issue of the final Horcrux," warned Albus, ever the killjoy. "As well as the fact you will need to deal with Voldemort's followers. Harry and as many others as possible should continue to be trained to deal with that. As you recall, you and Harry were initially to come together on his birthday. I had planned that you dispatch this challenge, and then begin training to find the Horcruxes and bring down the remaining Death Eaters."

_Dispatch this challenge_, the old man had said, as though it was as easy as sucking on a lemon drop.

Severus shuddered to think how he would feel If Harry had come to him on schedule, and Severus had never began the process of their bonding with his few words of praise. How much love would come from Harry's essential goodness then regarding his betrayal? Then again, the boy's natural stubbornness and self-righteousness might have carried him through. He would still hate Snape and wouldn't deign to do anything to lower himself to the greasy git's level. Would they have been better off then, without the beginnings of a bond that would be shattered beneath Severus' betrayal? If Severus had not began the process at this late date, there might not be anything for the boy to feel betrayed about since he had never before trusted the Potions Master.

"Was there something you wanted to show me from this book too?" Harry asked from his place on the couch beside him. He had the huge DADA book Severus had been reading in his lap and he eagerly thumbed through the pages.

Severus gave the boy an appraising look. His hair was still damp from the exertion to repel the attacks against his mind during the past hour. A messy dark mass hung limply in front of his face. Severus fought down the impulse to push the untidy mop back from his forehead and realized suddenly he had been doing this ever since first opening up to the boy. At least Harry had not been fighting the bond as he had. Perhaps that was what was meant by the boy's essential goodness. Severus constantly found himself resisting saying something kind to the boy, and trying to force himself to feel the old anger. The Potions Master also realized abruptly that each time it became more difficult to do so, and his desire to show the boy love seemed to increase with each interaction. But perhaps it was more important now than ever to resist. Tomorrow when he was forced to betray the boy, it might actually do more harm than good if Harry thought Severus had merely pretended to care to set him up. Not to mention that Snape felt like a hypocrite and coward giving in to the feelings now that he knew his life might depend on it. If the boy thought that too, he'd never be able to get over the betrayal.

"I would think you'd had enough," Severus said tapping the side of the boy's head with his finger as he quirked an eyebrow and tried to sound snide.

His snide comments meant something else entirely to the boy now. Harry simply gave him an impish grin, which was becoming much too familiar. In another life it would have earned the boy an evening of scrubbing cauldrons or cost him house points, now it only served to melt the man's heart.

"You think so do you?" The boy answered in playful challenge. "You were reading this bloody thing the whole time you had me redoing that sodding essay," he accused. "Come on, Snape, which one?" He asked handing back the heavy book.

Snape. The boy had called him _Snape_. Not with disrespect, but with affection. Snape. Now they were _Harry_ and _Snape_ for the love of Merlin. This madness had to stop.

Snape reached down rather casually and latched on to the boy's ear. He increased the pressure as he stood up and beckoned the boy to follow. He stooped down to hiss.

"I'm certain you meant, _Professor_ Snape, or _sir_, did you not?"

888

Harry blinked a couple of times trying to gauge the older man's seriousness. In another time this may have been intimidating. Harry wondered vaguely if the man was trying to be menacing. He pondered the fact that Snape didn't seem as threatening as he once had. It was odd. He certainly had not grown any gentler in the way he addressed him. In fact he dealt with him more strictly in a way. He was constantly threatening to hex him and had taken to smacking him on the back of the head when he grew too cheeky. Maybe it was all the touching that made Snape seem less frightening. Harry had to admit, the bit of the hug he'd given him a while ago was rather nice. He'd only ever gotten hugs from Mrs. Weasley, Hagrid, and Hermione. The Headmaster had patted him on the head once and that had been pretty nice..."

"It shouldn't take you that bloody long to answer," Snape barked in an exasperated way, cutting into the boy's thoughts.

"Oh," Harry started a bit, his ears going pink. "I guess I was just trying to figure out if you were really mad or not," the boy grinned and shrugged his shoulders.

Snape affected a rather disgusted expression, which caused Harry to grin more. The man finally cleared his throat rather noisily.

"Very well," he said sounding put upon. "I regret I was unable to come up with a technique that was simpler to master from the text, but there is one I would like to show you," he said, and ordered Harry to drop his shields.

The technique he showed Harry was extremely powerful. This time Harry did much better with staying focused and not letting his mind wander in the pathway. He was also able to keep himself from babbling out his every inane thought for Snape to hear it.

"_**You are very quiet," Snape mentioned after he had finished explaining why his own magical receptors burned so brightly.**_

"_**I'm trying to be quiet," Harry admitted in a voice that sounded a bit more childlike than usual. "Last time I made you cross because I wouldn't shut up and you kept threatening to end the lesson and hex me." **_

"_**I seem to recall that," his voiced sounded amused.**_

"_**So this time I decided to focus," Harry said in his best, I'm-a good-boy-voice. **_

"_**Ah," Snape intoned in understanding. "Then I am very pleased with the way you are conducting yourself today. Have you any questions about the lesson thus far?"**_

"_**I think I understand," Harry said brightly**_

_**Harry had wondered why Snape's magical receptors seemed to burn so much more brightly than his own during the last lesson. He had surmised correctly that it was because they were constantly battling darkness, but had not known it was through conscious effort. **_

"_**Last time when I got upset because I couldn't get the hang of the technique," Harry began. "A few of my receptors went out and the black gunk tried to take hold while I was trying to get the fires to light again. That doesn't happen with you right?" Harry asked.**_

"**_That is correct," Snape agreed. "It is rather fortuitous, since I am dealing with the _gunk _,as you would say_, _all the time_, _as I am very often upset." _**

_**Harry giggled and remembered Draco had said approximately the same thing about Snape's general disposition.**_

"_**Did he indeed?" Snape questioned.**_

_**Harry remembered his vow not to let his thoughts wander and tried to school his emotions.**_

"_**I get that your fires are burning so brightly that ordinary darkness doesn't affect them," Harry offered studiously. "But I don't quite understand how you are managing it."**_

"**_The discipline itself is a Defense against the Dark Arts technique called _Amor de Todo_. Observe," Snape ordered simply. _**

**_Suddenly Harry was assaulted by images that played out just below the band of emotion. As they were brought into sharper focus Harry realized they had been playing in the background all the time. The first image that caught is eye and near took his breath away was of Tom Riddle, as a small sober child, who looked incredibly harmless and fragile. There were many people that if Harry thought of the names alone, a picture of complete evil would come to mind, but in Snape's version they all looked innocent and pure. There was Bellatrix Lestrange as a giddy fifth year skipping through the halls of Hogwarts, and a twenty something Lucius Malfoy looking down with adoration at a child in his arms. The images went on an on. Some Harry knew, some he did not, but each one was more painfully beautiful than the next. _**

"_**Do you understand?" Snape asked Harry. **_

_**The boy felt his eyes mist over slightly.**_

"_**Will I be able to do that?" Harry answered in awe. **_

"_**In time," Snape admitted. "Start small. Begin by creating an image of someone you do not quite despise."**_

_**Harry attempted it for a while and created a few images, but he could tell it would be a long process.**_

888

The double Occlumency lesson had done the boy in. His hair and shirt were damp with perspiration and his eyes looked a bit glassy.

"As with the other things we have studied, you should continue to practice this on your own," Snape said, laying a steadying hand on each of the boy's shoulders as he regained his balance. "Continue to do so, even if for some reason you suddenly believe it is futile," he ordered soberly. It was the closest Severus would dare come to hinting at his upcoming betrayal, but to completely ignore it was more than he could bear.

"Yes, sir," the boy promised, echoing the older wizards tone. "Pensieve next?" He inquired with a huge yawn.

"I think you might do better with a nap and a shower," Snape suggested indicating the boy's damp hair and shirt.

"Maybe," the boy acknowledged. "I don't feel like taking a shower though," he complained sounding a bit childlike outside of the pathway as well. "Could you do me a cleaning spell?" he asked sleepily.

"Yes, I can _do you a_ cleaning spell," Snape mimicked indulgently. "Then it's off to your room with you."

He leveled his wand at the boy and a blast of clean air freshened his hair, skin, and clothing.

"Can I nap on the couch out here?" Harry asked as though the walk to his room was farther than he wanted to go.

"No," Snape said firmly, turning the boy to face his bedroom

"How come you always get to lay on the furniture out here?" the boy asked petulantly.

"Because I don't drool in my sleep and snore," Snape explained, giving him a push toward the hall.

"I do not drool," Harry complained in a sleepy indignant voice, but he was making his way toward his room.

"Of course you do, Harry," Snape assured him. "Remember? We've been through this before. Now do as you are told."

"I do not drool, Snape," Harry said with a pouty yawn as he made his way across the threshold into his bedroom.

Snape decided to ignore the lack of formal address and instead shook his head in amusement.

A few moments later as he stood beside the pensieve, he was more nervous than he would have imagined. It seemed there was so much more at stake all of a sudden.

_**The first memory Snape encountered made him want to pull his head out of the pensive straight away. It was the night in the Riddle family graveyard when Voldemort regained his body.**_

_**Snape gripped his wand painfully as a frightened and battered Harry struggled from where he was lashed to the gravestone. He winced along with the boy as the Rodent made an incision in his arm and dripped the blood into the bubbling cauldron. Snape's estimation of the Rat's bollocks went up a notch when he saw him sever his hand and let it fall into the mixture.**_

_**Severus watched with a blend of horror and fascination as Voldemort's body, oozing and gelatinous, emerged from the caldron and began to form. His wraith like appendages and reptilian visage were so startlingly different from his earlier incarnation. **_

**_Snape looked on as he used Wormtail's mark to summon his followers. He remembered well the pain of his own mark at the time. His master had been exceedingly lenient with those who had arrived on time. Snape observed that he barely spared them a curse. Severus, who arrived hours late, and with his master already in foul humor for having been bested again by Harry, had not been so lucky. He had suffered long and painfully as Voldemort tested his new wand hand. Perhaps he had been saving his earlier strength for Harry, who after all was the main event. Not only did he barely punish Malfoy and the others, Voldemort rewarded the Rodent. Snape watched a bit perplexed at first as his master cast the spell. His body went through a barely perceptible series of tremors and his jaw clenched as though he was resisting reacting to being hit with a _Crucio. _Then Snape was struck with dawning realization as a small shard, dark as onyx, flew from the center of Voldemort's body and imbedded itself in Peter Pettigrew's silver hand._**

"Something Gryffindor..." Severus whispered triumphantly as he pulled his head from the pensieve.

Severus let Harry sleep for an hour. He scolded the boy nearly the whole way back to the castle because he wouldn't stop complaining that they didn't get a chance to look in the pensieve. Severus threatened to hex him three times.

"But you said we could," the boy complained sleepily when Snape woke him up from his nap.

"Now I'm saying we can't," the older wizard told him firmly. "Now get up we need to get going."

"Why?" the boy wanted to know.

It was amazing how much easier it was to keep his patience around the boy than it used to be, but Severus had a feeling if Harry kept this up much longer he would find his limit.

"Headmistress McGonagall wants us back by supper," he explained.

"We'd have time if you hadn't made me do that stupid essay," Harry pointed out in a cranky voice, sounding like a petulant over-tired child.

Snape was tempted to ask him if he needed another nap. He spoke in his most stern Potions Master's voice.

"I shall assign you another task you will find equally unpleasant if you do not mind your tone." he threatened.

Snape pondered as he became more irritated with the the younger wizard, that the irritation did not seem to interfere with the growing sense of affection for the boy. However, Severus speculated that if Harry became much more impertinent he might throttle him. He told the boy as much when he offered a rude comment suggesting Snape was too scared to stand up to McGonagall. Still, it seemed to have no effect on his feelings for the boy. The Potions Master rationalized that it was much the same with his Slytherins. He could scold them and punish them, but in the end, they were his and he cared for them. It was growing to be the same with Harry. He noted with some satisfaction that the boy did seem to take his last warning seriously because he stopped complaining for a moment.

"Couldn't I at least show you what Draco and I learned while you were gone," Harry asked in a resigned voice. "Some of it might be helpful when the Death Eaters attempt the capture."

Severus admitted he had thought the same thing, if for no other reason than it might keep the boy safe. It was still his job to keep Harry safe, although Albus had assigned him this other unforgivable task.

"Proceed," the Potions Master ordered. "I suppose we could spare a few minutes for that."

The boy grinned and promptly disappeared from sight.

"You were working on the _cloaking charm_ when last I saw you," Snape chided the thin air around him. "I should think you would have mastered it given the time you've had. Have you learned nothing else in the past week?" He scolded.

"_**It's not the cloaking charm," chuckled Harry's voice. It seemed to be coming from their Occlumency link. "Look at your left shoulder."**_

When Snape did, he saw a medium sized spider that caused him to emit a most embarrassingly undignified sound. He tried to swat the thing off and was horrified as it scampered down his arm.

"_**Sir, wait!" Harry's voice came again, sounding slightly out of breath.**_

Snape couldn't spare a moment to respond. He swatted down as hard as he could, but it managed to dance away.

"_**Hey! Listen!" Harry said sounding a bit distressed.**_

Now the spider was on his leg and Snape swatted down hard again just as the thing turned into Potter.

"Ow!" the boy yelped as he rolled onto the floor and crabbed walked backwards a few paces.

Severus stood up abruptly and took and angry step toward the boy as though to step on him. Finally he forced himself to a halt as the situation caught up with him.

"That's quite a charm," he said breathlessly after a pause, trying to make his voice sound even. "I don't like spiders," he admitted, hoping he had kept the waver out of his voice.

The boy looked at him dumbly for a beat and then exploded in peels of laughter. Severus tried to look dignified as he ordered the boy to show him what else he had learned. After exacting a promise that Severus wouldn't try to smack him again, Harry demonstrated how he could swing, and tip things over with the _arachnid charm_. Snape thought the _rock charm_ might prove useful at some point as he watched the boy hurl himself at top speed from one end of the house to the next. The Potions Master was amazed that the charm allowed enough control to keep him from breaking anything. Harry admitted he wasn't very good at the _cuerpo charm_ yet. It was Snape's turn to laugh when the boy merged with a throw pillow on the couch and his head and arms were still visible through the top and sides.

The jovial mood was short lived, however, when Snape forbade Harry from using any of the charms unless expressly told to do so. Severus was actually afraid that the charms were a bit too good and they might keep him from being able to follow Albus'orders.

"I'll let you know if I think any of the new charms are appropriate," Snape told him. "As long as you are with me, you will know things are going according to plan," Severus had assured him.

It was again something of a veiled warning of the betrayal, Snape realized after the words left his mouth. The older wizard hoped he was not dooming them as Albus had warned, and he vowed to be more careful. Harry agreed grudgingly and then started complaining about the pensieve again as they made their way back to the castle. Snape wasn't sure why he resisted telling the boy about the last Horcrux. Somehow it seemed like more dangerous information for him to have when confronted by the Dark Lord than if the Horcrux were hidden in a remote cave.

By midnight that night he still had not decided whether or not to tell the boy about finding the final Horcrux. However, he did decide to give Harry his birthday gift. When the boy mentioned he didn't have many clothes, Snape had at first thought to give him a gift galleon from _Muggle Gear_ in Diagon Alley. It catered to teenage Muggleborns and Halfbloods. The clothing was self cleaning, and would grow along with the wearer. Each outfit had self-transfiguring charms and would change into five different suits of clothing both wizard and Muggle. However, he had come up with an even better gift idea when they had lunched earlier at Robert O'Briens Tavern. Snape took an hour charming the gift to look authentic and wondered if boy would find the humor in a few of his chosen quips. He still pondered the wisdom of giving the gift, given the new circumstances. Again he wondered if the boy would see it as part of a set up once he had been betrayed. As Severus drifted off to sleep he decided to give in to his feelings, thinking that perhaps it was denying them all these years that had landed them in the current situation.

888

Harry had fallen asleep reading _A Potions Guide to Medicinal Magic, _which he remembered to grab while he was at the beach house. He was startled awake by the heavy weight on his chest and the vague sensation that someone had been watching him for a while as he slept. As he drowsily pushed the volume away and rubbed the grit from his eyes he thought he heard the faint sound of footsteps receding and the billowing swish of robes. The boy slipped on his glasses and the first thing Harry noticed when he awoke the morning of his birthday was a chocolate frog package on the trunk that served as a tea table between his four poster and the couch on the opposite wall. At first he thought it might be from Draco. Being a firm believer that it was never too early in the day for sweets he ripped open the wrapper and caught the smooth chocolate amphibian in mid jump. Biting off its head and beginning to work on one arm he flipped the frog card over to see who he had gotten. The first thing he noticed was that he had never seen this card before. To his confusion, it was a picture of him in fourth year being chased on his Firebolt by an angry Hungarian Horntail. He watched as the dragon blew out a furious stream of flame and the bristles of his broom caught fire. Beneath the picture in slightly cramped script was a message.

_This will have to do till the Sweets Company gets around to issuing a real one. Clearly fame isn't everything. _

_Happy Birthday, _

_Snape_

Harry smiled widely and flipped the card back over to see what was written on the other side.

_Harry James Potter_:

The card proclaimed in bold, gothic script.

_Age one-----only wizard toddler ever known to engage in a duel_

_Ages two to ten-----worked as a Muggle house elf_

The first two made Harry laugh out loud.

_Age eleven-----youngest Quidditch player in a century/Hogwarts _

_Age twelve-----battled a basilisk_

_Age thirteen-----youngest known wizard to cast a Patronus Charm_

_Age fourteen-----outflew dragon on his trusty Firebolt_

_Age fifteen-----forms Defense Association AKA Dumbledore's Army_

_Age sixteen-----develops new methods of defensive magic_

_Age seventeen-----saves the world_

Harry was completely speechless and really touched, and he noticed the chocolate frog had begun to melt in his hand. He gobbled the thing down and licked his fingers before wiping them clean on his pajama trousers.

He flipped the card over again to look at the picture and reread the message. He placed it gingerly between the pages of his book and laid it on the tea trunk.

"Thanks. That was a really cool picture," Harry said as he caught up with Snape, disguised again as Goyle, as they made their way to the Great Hall with Malfoy that afternoon.

The Potions Master had been in with McGonagall all morning, and it had been Harry's first opportunity to see him.

"Unfortunately I could not locate one of you with the Snitch in your teeth," Snape smiled casually as they made their way to the entrance hall.

Harry's guests arrived for his coming of age party at half twelve. Since it was to be a realatively small gathering, the house elves had gaily decorated the area just inside the entrance to the Great Hall. A few sharp words from McGonagall stopped the rudeness that ensued when refreshments were being served and the Gryffindors realized that the Slytherins would be joining the festivities as well. When she left for a brief meeting with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and the other Order members, the Gryffindors and Slytherins were at least refraining from hexing each other and Harry tried to breathe a bit easier. Still, they were glaring daggers across the room. Ron and the twins were at any rate. Hermione, Neville and Ginny seemed to be trying to assess the situation. Ron in particular took exception to Harry's standing on the side of the room with the snakes at the moment. Only Harry of his two companions realized the significance, when the redhead threw a tiny pellet at Goyle's feet. All at once a tall wizard in bright robes with an impressive white beard loomed over the wide-eyed Slytherin.

"You _will_ obey me in this young man. I'll not stand for a moment more of your defiance," the Boggart warned sternly, its pale blue eyes flashing.

Almost as one the Weasleys exploded in gales of laughter. Neville looked confused and Hermione disapproving.

"Dumbledore," Fred and George guffawed. "Goyle's biggest fear is Dumbledore?"

Harry was in front of the other wizard in a moment.

"_Obscuro_," Harry said, remembering how Fred had canceled the prank Boggart before.

Harry had not inadvertently slipped into Snape's mind since their fierce Occlumency lessons during fifth year, and it seemed strange to be doing so through Goyle's eyes.

_**Harry was pulled in to a memory of a youthful Snape with an angry Dumbledore fiercely scolding him.**_

"_**You will not expose that boy as a werewolf, Severus I will not allow it," the Headmaster was saying sternly.**_

"_**They bloody tried to kill me, Albus!" railed a tearful young Snape. "I could have died and you gave them points."**_

"_**I gave James points for saving you, Severus," the Headmaster explained impatiently. "Surely you understand that."**_

"_**Fifty points from Black, and sixty to Potter," Severus spat. **_"_**The sodding Gryffindors are ahead ten."**_

"_**Do calm yourself, Severus," The Headmaster said growing more stern.**_

"_**I will not calm myself!" Severus ranted angrily. "And I'm going to tell anybody who will listen that you have that wild animal living here."**_

_**The Headmaster looked as angry as Harry had ever seen him as he towered over young Snape.**_

Suddenly the memory was cut short and Goyle's eyes bore into Harry murderously.

"What the bloody hell are you looking at Harry like that for?" Ron asked the Slytherin nastily. "It was me threw the Boggart."

"That was a Boggart?" Malfoy breathed. He looked almost as shaken as Snape.

"Boggarts in Box," Harry explained and shot Snape a cautious, apologetic glance. "Fred and George's invention."

"Useful prank that," the blond boy admitted as he tried to regain his composure.

"You three are being awfully bleeding chummy, aren't you?" Ron asked in a disgusted tone.

"And you're being an awful, bleeding prat, Ron. Did you notice?" Harry asked and spun angrily toward his friend.

"What?" The redhead said defensively. "What the bloody hell are you playing at, Harry? They're not on our side!"

"Small wonder if this is the way we treat them. And in case you missed it, Ron, Malfoy was fighting on our side in the last battle," Harry pointed out.

"I don't believe you, Harry," Ron said incredulously. "You're sticking up for Draco sodding Malfoy," the redhead spat. "And Goyle sure as shite wasn't on our side."

"Goyle wasn't even there, you prat, " Harry said testily. "But he's here now!" He pushed past the other boy roughly and made his way for the door.

888

"Harry!" Ron called. He looked around dumbly at Neville and Hermione who were both giving him disapproving glares now. Meanwhile the twins giggled in the corner. Ginny looked a bit sad, but to his relief not particularly miffed at him.

He stared at the door where Harry had gone out trying to figure out what to do. Suddenly the boy let out a girlish shriek and stumbled back on his arse when he noticed a medium sized black spider swinging from his hair.

**Chapter 31 **

**In to Temptation**

Bright green eyes misted over with tears as they made the journey from confusion to horrified realization. As Severus blocked the connection to their Occlumency pathway, it took every ounce of his strength to not begin weeping as well at the appalling sense of loss.


	31. Into Temptation

**Disclaimer: **I'm pretty sure she writes faster that I do.

**excessivelyperky **still rocks hard. That hasn't changed, nor is it likely to. As always, thanks so much for your edits and insight.

This chapter is dedicated to **Jason**, my 500th reviewer.** Jason** is also the one who suggested Harry would never have stopped communicating with his friends that easily.

**Author's Notes: **It has been far too long, and I do apologize. I could offer a lot of lame excuses, but perhaps you would rather read the chapter instead?

**Enjoy **

**Chapter 31 **

**Into Temptation**

Ronald Weasley took a few frantic swipes at the fuzzy, black spider as it swung precariously from a clump of his red hair. He missed the creature as it seemed to arc its web out of range with deliberate purpose only to land delicately on his face once more. The boy crabwalked backwards from where shock had landed him on the floor of the Great Hall as if that might allow him escape from the tiny monster.

"I don't like spiders," he admitted mournfully, as it came to rest on the triangle of skin where the line of his nose met his forehead. The boy slapped a palm flat on the spot in an attempt to swat the thing. His actions reminded Severus for all the world of Dobby when the elf was trying to punish himself.

Severus suddenly had an inkling as to why Potter had laughed so heartily when he had uttered these same words when first shown the _Arachnid _charm the previous day. Draco, who now stood beside him, chuckled enthusiastically at the redhead's predicament. He was no doubt enjoying the added knowledge of the significance of Weasley being attacked by a spider so soon after Harry had stormed angrily from the scene of his age of independence celebration.

As Snape was still sporting Goyle's countenance, no one would have thought a thing of it if he had laughed as well. But the humor of the situation was wasted on Severus who was still smarting intensely from the marathon tongue lashing he had received from McGonagall earlier. The fierce witch had kept him up in her office since dawn when she had summoned him. McGonagall hadn't told him off so quite so thoroughly since his third year when he had transfigured Pettigrew into a rather large and ill formed potato bug in the middle of her classroom. After having awakened him at such a painfully wee hour, she spent the better part of the morning threatening and attempting to bully Severus against following the Headmaster's orders regarding allowing Voldemort to capture Potter. She claimed not to give two Knuts about the prophecy.

Severus had told her everything, though Albus had initially instructed he only give what information was absolutely necessary. After forty-five minutes or so of her sharp rebukes, he decided _all _the information was necessary. Why Albus had insisted he inform Minerva of anything at all, Severus couldn't fathom. It would have been much simpler if he and Potter were to just leave the castle without her knowledge when it came time to meet up with the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters. The Headmaster knew better than anyone that you couldn't get past McGonagall with half truths.

Minerva informed the younger wizard in no uncertain terms that no prophecy was worth Harry's life. Severus would have expected no less from the woman. Harry was one of her lion cubs, and he knew how she felt. Severus felt the same about his snakes, and he had in fact ceased to think of Harry solely as a Gryffindor. The boy had merged in his thoughts as some sort of gryffin/snake cross breed. And after so many years of covertly protecting him, it tore at Severus' very foundation to put him in harm's way. And yet he still felt compelled to do so. He had been obeying Albus for over twenty-five years, since age eleven. He tried to explain to Minerva that it seemed impossible to do otherwise, especially when the Headmaster insisted that the stakes were so high. Minerva had savagely admonished him, saying if that were the case, then it was high time he grew a backbone.

"But even if you cannot, Severus, I'll still not allow you to harm the boy," she chastised sounding dangerously maternal.

It made Severus lament, not for the first time, that McGonagall hadn't been his Head of House and therefore inclined to feel motherly towards _him_ when Albus had sent him off to a similar, but much worse, fate when he had been about Harry's age. But Severus hadn't been sorted into Gryffindor, nor Ravenclaw like his mother before him. Albus had seen to that personally when he delivered Severus' Hogwarts letter to Spinners End those many years ago. Handing over the thick cream colored envelope with the red, waxy Hogwarts seal, Albus told the boy with a conspiratorial wink, that he would be most dismayed and a tad disappointed if he were sorted anywhere but Slytherin. It had been the first of many such subtly manipulative orders that eleven year old Severus had learned to recognize and obey as the Headmaster issued them over the years. Albus had spent a great deal of time speaking to his father that day as well. Tobias had been furious when the old wizard left. To Severus' relief, he didn' t thrash him, but he spent the evening muttering snide rhetoricals.

"So our Severus is an _important_ young _wizard _is he?" Tobias had questioned with a trademark Snape sneer. "_Our_ lad has a _significant_ role to play he does," the man fumed as he cast angry, wary looks in Severus' direction.

Severus didn't realize until he began teaching, that personal delivery of one's Hogwarts letter by the Headmaster was a trifle unusual. But as a result, he had not wound up one of Minerva's cubs, compelling her to feel maternal, nor had he been sorted as one of Flitwick's ravens, to inspire his paternal instincts. It left Severus with a hopeless Housemaster like Slughorn to look out for his interests, however much the Sorting Hat insisted he would do well in either of the other houses during his long negotiation with it the evening of his welcoming feast. Of course Severus had long ago learned that you could never count on anyone truly looking out for your interests, be they mother, father, brother, or friend.

The Weasley twins were illustrating his point quite aptly as they stood near hysteria with laughter and made no attempt assist their younger brother as he battled the tiny arachnid. Nor did Granger or Longbottom move to Ronald's aid Severus noted; perhaps they were in shock. They rather looked it, standing with their mouths agape as spider Harry carried out his prank at his best mate's expense. Young Ginerva, to Snape's amazement, looked his way and donned a rather sympathetic smile. At first this confused him. _Does she somehow know I detest spiders as well? _He wondered, and then he realized her look was sympathy for the prank Boggart. The horrid thing, complements of annoying Ronald and his equally aggravating twin brothers, had taken on Albus' form and proceeded to give Severus a good telling off in front of a room full of Gryffindors. _Just like old times, _he thought bitterly. He supposed he should feel grateful that the Boggart had not turned into Minerva, after a morning with her that felt like old times as well. She had dismissed him with the ominous threat that she would discuss what parts of the situation she felt prudent with the Order members and get back to him. She was meeting with several members in her office at present. McGonagall had not said whether she was going to reveal his identity, and he had been too apprehensive to ask. Severus was half expecting one or two of them to arrive any moment and deliver a killing curse.

Perhaps it was Ginerva's kind look that prompted him to offer her irritating brother a hand. The Gryffindors were no doubt shocked by the image of Gregory Goyle offering assistance to Ron Weasley.

"All right there Weasley?" asked the Slytherin as he extended a hand to the other boy. "I don't like spiders myself," he admitted as he lightly swatted at the cause of the excitement with one hand and gestured to help Weasley to his feet with the other.

"**_That will do, Potter," he thought along the Occlumency pathway, trying to make the admonishment sound stern and apparently failing._**

The spider clung briefly to the back of his hand. He heard Harry's laugh along the link as he scurried out of sight along the underside of his arm. Snape suppressed a shudder as he reminded himself it was only Potter. He had to admit, it was a handy charm.

It was almost as though the Weasley boy could sense his best friend poking fun at him with a Slytherin, such force did he put into slapping the proffered hand away.

"I don't need any help from the likes of you. Go bugger yourself, you sodding Slytherin," Weasley spat as he scrambled to his feet.

Snape supressed a moment of shocked anger and then adopted a perfect tone of teacherly reprimand.

"If you are that fascinated with buggery, perhaps you would benefit from a month's detention bottling kneazle excrement, Mr. Weasley," Snape suggested dryly. From the looks on the Gryffindors faces, they thought Goyle had just done a bloody brilliant impression of Snape.

"_Kneazle_ excrement?" Ronald intoned disgustedly.

"You know, Weasley," Draco put in helpfully. "A kneazle is a bit like a cat," the boy explained. "It's likely the closest thing to a pussy--" he paused for effect, "cat, you'll ever see."

Snape gave his godson a sharp censuring frown for his crass remark, but he couldn't very well hold it. It wasn't the sort of comment Draco would generally dare make in his presence, but it complimented his remark flawlessly.

He held eye contact long enough to pick up Draco's thought. **_"Sorry, Uncle Severus, just trying to help!" _**Harry answered from inside the link with a chuckle. Severus turned away from Draco with a discomfited twitch. One irritating brat inside his head at the moment was one too many.

Severus treated Weasley to an extremely dark glare as the Slytherin spun away to rejoin Malloy. When Snape felt his robe swish with the abrupt movement, he pondered that if he were not more careful the lions might speculate that Goyle's impersonation of his Head of House was a bit _too_ spot on. As it was, Fred and George Weasley began to laugh louder during the exchange.

"Do you guys practice that?" One twin guffawed.

"That was the best impression of Snape I've ever seen, Goyle," chortled the other. "But I bet twenty galleons you won't share your naughty kneazle bit with McGonagall, Malfoy," he wagered.

"I'm surprised a Weasley has twenty galleons, but I'm certain I won't either," the blond wizard agreed.

"You should shut your filthy mouth, Malfoy!" Ronald ordered, launching himself at the blond Slytherin. "There are girls here."

Weasley was tackled by Longbottom before he could reach him, and wound up on the floor again.

"Take it easy, Ron," Longbottom suggested reasonably while holding him down. "I'm sure Harry wouldn't appreciate a fight breaking out at his party. Not to mention, your parents and the Headmistress are in the castle."

"I do apologize, ladies," Malfoy intoned with a courtly bow in the direction of the Weasley girl and Granger.

"I can't believe Harry would take their side against ours," young Ronald was spitting at his fellow Gryffindors as he shook Longbottom off and regained his feet. He looked around fervently as though attempting to rally them to action. As Severus fought not to raise a patented eyebrow, he heard Harry laugh again along the link.

"**_Ron gets a little wound up. But he does kind of have a point doesn't he, Snape?"_**

Severus tried to muster up some annoyance at the boy's use of his name. But as such deception was impossible in the pathway, he was unsuccessful. He settled for scolding him instead.

"**_As much as I appreciate your gesture of exacting revenge on my behalf, I said, that will do, boy. Now show yourself. I have no wish to spend the afternoon babysitting a room full of sullen Gryffindimwits."_**

"Come on, Ron," Ginerva put in irritably. "Harry isn't taking their side against ours."

"What would you call sticking up for them then?" He questioned angrily. "Harry didn't even hint at any of this in his letters," Weasley ranted to Granger. "He's too bloody ashamed most likely."

"**_Letters?" Snape asked along the pathway. This time his tone found the sternness he had been searching for earlier and he felt Harry's emotions shift nervously in the link._**

"Just said he'd gone to start his training and he couldn't tell us anything," he continued to harangue at Granger. "Well small wonder he couldn't tell us anything if he was spending all his time cozying up to the snakes," Weasely opined venomously.

"Oh, honestly, Ronald," Granger finally interrupted. "It makes sense that Harry wouldn't be able to explain everything in an open letter," she expounded haughtily. "And he hasn't been here the whole time. He made that clear. We are lucky he's been able to send us any letters at all since leaving Privet Drive," she huffed. "It must be terribly dangerous."

"**_You've been bloody writing to your friends this whole time, even when we were in Ireland?" Snape was fairly seething into the link now. "Answer me, you little dunderhead," he ordered when he got no response._**

"I'll say it's dangerous." Ron frowned disgustedly. "He's gone all Slytherin is what." Young Weasley was fairly foaming about the mouth as he flailed one arm and stomped the opposite foot. It put Severus in mind of a blast ended skrewt.

"Well we_ have_ come to think of Harry as something of an honorary Slytherin." Draco drawled with false helpfulness.

He got everyone in the room's attention, and Snape looked at him extra sharply.

"What? You disagree?" Draco drawled. He was having far too much fun as far as Snape was concerned.

"Hardly," the Potions Master acknowledged in a rigid tone that was directed internally at Harry rather than Draco. "Excuse me a moment," Snape bit out as he made his way to the doors of the Great Hall. Just as he passed through he felt Harry's presence, which had grown rather intense since mention of the letters, exit the link. He realized the boy must have jumped from his hiding place among his robes. As he swirled to look behind him he saw the tiny spider scamper away and then stop. It turned, at a speed that could only be described as reluctant, and faced him. Snape was about ten feet away. If it was possible for a spider to look nervous, Harry managed it. He shifted from one little black leg to another as Snape stared him down from the distance.

"Transform at once," he commanded icily. "And come," Severus ordered as he spun away. He did not spare a glance to confirm that Harry had obeyed as he made his way across the entryway to the door of the boy's toilet.

When he did look back he noted that Potter had obeyed the order to transform, but had moved no closer and indeed seemed to be considering the wisdom of bolting. His green eyes appeared to scan the entryway for likely exits.

Dangerously low on patience, Severus used his wand to help the boy make the right decision. Harry looked quite startled at the first magical tug of the ear pulling charm. As Snape angled his wand to draw the boy closer, his cheeks seemed to color with embarrassment, and as he was unceremoniously chucked through the toilet door as the spell canceled the boy looked downright mortified.

Snape transformed into himself and raised his wand menacingly, causing Harry to brace as he rubbed his sore ear, but he only cast a silencing and locking spell over his shoulder while holding Harry's eyes with his dark angry gaze.

"What the bloody, buggering hell, did you imagine you were doing, you reckless, irresponsible brat of a boy?" A rational part of Severus' mind knew that his over the top anger was in part due to Minerva's harsh treatment. The brief visit from Boggart Albus hadn't helped either. And, like the good Gryffinsnake he had become, Harry was providing a reasonable outlet for his anger. However, it was not as though the little idiot didn't deserve it.

At first the boy looked a trifle concerned to be reprimanded thusly. Then he donned a mischievous expression as though he hoped to cheek his way out of the difficulty. Severus had obviously allowed him to do so far too many times recently.

"Come on, I'm celebrating a birthday here," Harry argued with an overdone pout.

"Which is the only reason I didn't use a more impressive spell to convince you to join me for this meeting," Severus countered silkily. "I have a startling repertoire," he assured the boy. "Care for a demonstration?" He noted with satisfaction the boy's emphatic shake of the head before continuing in quietly menacing tones. "You've been _owling_ your friends this whole time, you stupid boy?"

"I didn't _owl_," Harry responded as though a bit offended. "I wouldn't have _owled_. I used Fawkes and then Dobby. I had to contact them," the boy stopped as though searching for words. "They're my best friends, Snape."

The Potions Master wasn't sure whether the boy still didn't sound a bit cheeky.

"I am quite certain I did not give you leave to call me that?" Snape rapped out menacingly.

"No, sir, but what did you expect me to do?" The question seemed sincere. "They're my friends," Harry repeated in a voice that begged to be understood.

"Foolishly, I didn't expect you to deceive me and put us in more danger," Snape returned in snide anger.

"I didn't deceive you," Potter argued. "You didn't say I _couldn't _contact them. How did I put us in danger?"

"Potter, you are enough of a bloody nitwit that you need not be deliberately dense! How could your behavior not put us in danger, you arrogant little fool?" He seethed. "If you thought it was fine that you were remaining in contact with your little friends, why is it you never mentioned it?"

"You don't inform me about every owl you send?" Potter answered with a bit of impish defiance. But then his look turned immediately wary and he shrunk back a pace as though Severus' hard answering glare made him regret his words or perhaps consider their consequences.

"Now is not the time for you to test that alleged Gryffindor courage, Potter. I assure you it is not," Snape warned dangerously. But once he pushed aside Harry's impertinence, his conscience screamed out that the boy was right. There was _much_ Snape wasn't telling him. And due to the prophecy he was the one placing them both in grave danger. Severus suddenly ran out of steam. How would this conversation play out when Severus was forced to betray the boy? Now was certainly not the time to be scolding him on the topic of dishonesty. It was probably not the time to be scolding the boy on any topic. He looked at Harry, abruptly wanting this conversation to be over and wondering if his swift desire for surrender bled through. Snape forced his voice to go harsh.

"Get out of my sight, you irresponsible boy," he spat with as much venom as he could muster.

The boy could not have reacted more if Snape had struck him. And Severus well remembered the sting of such words when leveled at him by Albus.

"Wait," Harry began helplessly. "No… I… you…"

"Yes, I know, Potter. I did not_ say_ you could not contact them. You have already made that brilliant argument. Now get out of my sight this instant."

"No, wait. _Come on_, sir…" the boy almost pleaded. "All right… all right… I knew you wouldn't like me contacting them, so I…yeah I shouldn't have done that," the boy babbled. "That was wrong… I'm sorry, all right. I am. Come on…"

"Go, Potter," Snape ordered in an unyielding tone.

"No," the boy argued in a hurt voice that sounded very young all of a sudden. "Honest, Snape ...I'm…I shouldn't have done that. Okay. I said I was sorry."

"And I'm quite certain I said you were to get out of my sight," Snape observed, finally managing the right tone to make the boy obey.

888

Harry worried his lower lip between his teeth as he exited the boys' toilet. It felt like a long time since Snape had been this mad at him. In fact, Harry found himself wondering if Snape had ever been this mad before, because Harry had certainly never cared this much about it. He quickly dismissed the thought as ridiculous. Of course Snape had been this angry with him before. Snape had been mad at him his whole childhood. This was the same Snape who gleefully took points and enthusiastically assigned detentions. Not to mention the same Snape who would shake you till your teeth rattled and chuck cockroaches at your head if you were stupid enough to look in his pensieve. As he slowly made his way back to the Great Hall, Harry admitted he had seen Snape angry far too many times to count.

What had changed though was his reaction to Snape's anger. It bothered him quite a lot. Snape's cruelty had always vexed him, but in a different way. When Snape used to always be cruel to him it made Harry hate him, and feel bloody righteous doing so. Now, Harry was feeling like maybe Snape hated_ him_. _Hopefully_ _hate is too strong as word_, Harry reasoned. _Certainly Snape doesn't hate me again_, Harry thought. But the man had made it plain he certainly didn't like the younger wizard just now.

The anxiety Harry was experiencing was decidedly different than what he had felt when the Headmaster had been cross with him. That had made him feel extremely sad, but also exceedingly confused. Harry still wasn't clear on why the Headmaster had suddenly begun to reprimand him for the same sort of things he used to get away with. Neither were Harry's feelings regarding Snape's current anger similar to how Harry felt when McGonagall was annoyed with him. While it was true the stern witch scared him more than a little, he never cared about her anger any longer than it took her to finish telling him off. Harry never carried with him any lasting concern that McGonagall might be disappointed in him once she was done with a well aimed rebuke. He _certainly _never worried about whether the Headmaster or McGonagall hated him. The distress Harry felt right now didn't even compare to how it felt to have Remus upset with him for the past few weeks.

After the incident with Tonks Harry had been stubborn and defiant and full of _I'm almost a full grown wizard _bluster But by that evening he felt a bit horrified about the disrespectful way he had spoken to Remus, who was after all one of his parents only living friends. Dinner had been in the Great Hall with the Headmistress and all the Order members. Harry had arrived late to the evening meal and the only seat available had been across from Remus. His favorite former professor had regarded him with a rather heartbroken, disappointed look and then refrained from further eye contact. Harry had felt ashamed, a bit like he had third year. Remus had rescued him from getting caught after curfew with the Marauders Map by Snape, only to take him into his office to give him a stern talking to, all the while wearing that same heartrendingly disappointed expression. After sitting through an entire meal with Lupin wearing that dreaded look on his countenance and knowing that he was the cause of it, Harry had quickly found him and apologized the next morning. Lupin had graciously admitted that he wished he had handled things differently as well.

"Tonks explained everything, Harry," he told the young man and looked sympathetic when the younger wizard blanched at the word _everything_. "She had to, or I never would have believed that nothing happened. Werewolves have a rather keen sense of smell you are aware," Harry paled even further as he took in the implication of that. "Still," Remus continued. "As much as I over reacted, I think your behavior was extremely ungentlemanly, both in the way you spoke to me, and the fact that you approached Tonks in the first place," Remus held up a hand as Harry opened his mouth to speak. "Putting aside the fact that you are a child and disregarding the fact that you've had a crush on Tonks, would you ever think it sporting to go after Hermione the moment she and Ron had a row?"

Harry opened and closed his mouth a few times in shock while he puzzled out how to respond.

"No," he finally breathed.

"You see?" Remus continued. "And thus, I am rather disappointed." Harry had actually left Remus' quarters feeling worse than he had before coming. He spent the rest of the week swinging back and forth between trying to figure out a way to make it up to the other wizard and being annoyed that Remus hadn't just told him he was forgiven. Harry still was uncomfortable around the man. He felt a bit like he had after his row with the Headmaster, Harry wanted nothing more than to avoid Remus in hopes that things would iron themselves out on thei own.

_That isn't how I feel right now_, Harry thought, as he pulled open the heavy wooden door to the Great Hall. He wanted nothing more that to go back and try to apologize again. When Snape had ordered him out of his sight it somehow felt like the cruelest thing the man had ever said to him. And for someone as talented at cruelty as Snape, that was saying something. After years of not giving a damn what Snape thought, the idea that Harry cared so much that the man was angry was saying something as well.

As though all of Harry's birthday wishes were destined to be denied today, his wish to avoid the uncomfortable issue that was Remus Lupin was denied as well.

"You are telling me that you children have no idea where Harry is," Harry heard Remus ask Ron and Hermione rather sternly as he entered.

"Oh, he's there, sir," Neville supplied in a relieved tone as he indicated Harry's entrance.

Neville wasn't the only one who seemed relieved. Remus and Hagrid, who stood near him, did also.

"Harry!" Remus greeted, with a surprising amount of feeling after the rough couple of weeks they'd had.

"Yes sir?" Harry answered, not at all comfortable with this dramatic change in emotion.

"And Mr. Goyle is?" Remus asked in what seemed a deceptively casual voice.

"He's in the loo, sir?" Harry offered tentatively, for all the world feeling like he had just betrayed Snape.

"Hagrid, will you see these children safely to the dungeon while I collect Mr. Goyle?"

"What's wrong, Remus?" Harry asked suspiciously, his senses suddenly at full alert.

He apparently wasn't the only one. The Gryffindors looked ready to mutiny if they didn't get some answers fast.

It was Hagrid who spoke, and he looked like he did when he was about was about to give away information that perhaps he shouldn't. As he spoke, though, Harry sensed that it wasn't quite the truth.

"Headmistress got word there may'ot be Death Eaters about, and we're ter move you lot ter a safe location till we get things sorted."

This announcement was met with thunderous complaints and the students wouldn't start moving until Remus promised that they would all be pressed into service if the need arose.

As the Gryffindors and Malfoy made their way into the Slytherin Common Room, one would have thought with the threat of attack, Ron might give up on his earlier tirade. However, the fact that he would be forced to spend time in Slytherin territory only seemed to heighten his aggression.

"What the bloody hell are we doing down here?" Ron started up nearly the second the portrait hole closed.

"Welcome to House Slytherin," Malfoy intoned graciously. "Please do make yourselves at home."

Ron snorted derisively.

"Shall we slide around on our bellies?"

"Oh, not at all, Weasel," Malfoy returned. Not in the least insulted. "No reason to stand on ceremony. Tell them Harry," he instructed the other boy. "We actually sit on furniture, don't we? Yes that's right, Weasley," he winked at the redhead. "Harry's been living down here as well. Honorary Slytherin and all that."

"He's been living down…what? Ron demanded incredulously, just as Harry turned to Draco.

"Shut it, Malfoy

"Oh, honestly, Ronald," Granger chastised. "He's having you on."

"Oh, but I'm not Granger," Malfoy said sweetly.

Almost as one the Gryffindors turned to stare at Harry in disbelief. He let their silence bounce around the dungeon for a while until he finally responded in angry exasperation.

"What?"

"Harry?" Ron croaked.

"What. Ron." He bit out, more of a curse than a question.

"Why would you be living down here mate?" Ron asked in a broken voice. It was in stark contrast to his earlier rant. His friend sounded as idiotically hurt as Harry had ever heard him. And suddenly, he lost all patience.

"It's because I've gone Dark, Ron," Harry spat drawing his wand. "Isn't that what you have been saying?"

"Now thots enuff 'o thot," Hagrid chastised immediately. "Harry put yer wand away and I mean right now eh? Now, Ron," he said looking at the redhead. "Headmistress ordered Harry to bunk in down 'ere. Din' want the Order spread too thin protecting 'im and Malfoy. Ain't thot right 'arry?"

"No," Harry answered, having disobeyed Hagrid's instruction to stow his wand. "It's because I've gone Dark like Ron said. Want to see a curse mate?" He asked his friend who was looking at him with a rather guarded expression. "Come on," Harry cajoled winningly. "You'll like this one," Harry assured raising his wand. "_Cru_…" Harry began as Ron's eyes went wide, and Ginny let out a screech. And although he would have never cast the curse, and he certainly didn't mean it, Harry could not have picked a worse time to make such a tasteless joke.

It was at that moment, Severus Snape entered the common room. The Potions Masters eyes met Harry's and before the boy could explain himself he seemed to have his wand in hand.

"_Imobulus Maximus," _Snape cast a spell that froze everyone in the Common Room save Harry. He transformed before taking three determined strides forward and whispering, "Harry. James. _Dungwit_. Potter," in a dangerously calm voice. Harry almost wished the man would shout. And it seemed, contrary to his earlier belief, this birthday wish would be granted. "How _dare_ you cast that spell, you little fool!" The man suddenly bellowed just inches from the boy's face.

"I didn't... I wasn't..." Harry tried to explain.

"You _didn't?_ You _weren't?"_ Snape mocked. "What in Merlin's name is the mater with you, boy? Did you fall from your broomstick and injure you head? How many times do you think you can get a way with casting that curse before it actually hits?"

"No, wait." Harry begged needing to be understood. "I didn't mean it. I was just kidding around."

"_Kidding_ around?" Snape spat incredulously. "With the_ Cruciatus_ Curse? You stupid irresponsible, brat. You have attempted that curse three times now by my reckoning. Have there been others?"

"No, sir!" Harry said stridently. "I wasn't gonna say it. You gotta believe me, Snape. Ron was just being an arse like earlier. So I said wanna see a curse see? But I wouldn't have..." Harry tried to explain. "I wasn't."

Snape paused and gave the boy perhaps the hardest look Harry and ever been subjected to.

"How _dare_ you toy with such things?" Snape began, his voice going quiet again. "If you tempt it enough times your magic _will_ answer. If you _ever_ attempt to cast an Unforgivable curse again," Snape promised in his deadliest tone, "I shall confiscate that wand of yours and forbid you its use until such time as it can be determined that you are no longer suffering from such an appalling excess of _stupidity_ as to think the words _Cruciatus_ and _kidding_ could possibly belong in the same sentence."

Snape paused for moment and ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

"In fact, I will have your wand now," the Potions Master ordered and held out his hand

"Yes, sir," Harry paled, but handed it over without argument.

"Come," the elder wizard commanded. "_Obliviate Maximus_," he said with a wave of his wand toward the frozen crowd before exiting the portrait hole.

Even after they left the dungeons and made their way out of the castle, Harry did not comment, so afraid was he that Snape had some unspeakably harsh punishment in mind. It turned out he was more correct than he ever would have imagined. It wasn't until they reached the apparation barrier and Harry saw Lucius Malfoy did he suspect something might be amiss.

888

Harry looked from Lucius to Severus the back again, comprehension slowly dawning. Bright green eyes misted over with unshed tears as they made the journey from confusion to horrified realization. As Severus blocked the connection to their Occlumency pathway, it took every ounce of his strength not to begin weeping as well at the appalling sense of loss.

**_I agree. It was a very evil place to stop. I hope you enjoyed it though. Don't forget to review._**

**_This chapter has been altered slightly since it was first posted._**


	32. Deliver Us From Evil

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

**Author's Notes: **Thanks so much for your reviews. I know I said one more chapter till the end, but as it turns out there were two. Here they are. I hope you enjoy them.

**excessivelyperky **is brilliant! That goes without saying, but I really enjoy saying it none the less. Thanks so much for all your edits, support, and insight as I've muddled my way through this fic. You're the best.

**Bigstew** was a big help on the last few chapters as well. Thanks a bunch Stew.

The lion's share of this chapter was beta'd by **Kirinin**. I thought I'd give her a sneak peek, and she edited the thing. Thanks a bunch **Kirinin**. You rock!

**Warning:** Character deaths

**Enjoy **

**Chapter 32**

**Deliver Us from Evil**

The first thing Severus did after severing their Occlumency link was hit Potter with a powerful sleeping curse. He favored the spell for immobilization more than a body bind or _Petrificus Totalus_. It felt less brutal somehow, and he would not run the risk of the spell wearing off until the boy was _Ennervated_. Before Harry's body could sink to the ground, he gathered the small form up and held the young man against his chest. Severus forced a feral, triumphant look upon his face. He hoped Lucius would not recognize his hold on Potter for the fiercely anguished embrace it was, nor realize how desperately Severus was trying to reign in his emotions. He probably need not have worried; Lucius was sweeping his worried, gray eyed gaze toward the castle, apparently dealing with intense emotion of his own.

"Were you not able to bring Draco as well?" the man asked, with seemingly equal parts apprehension and relief.

"I was not," Snape informed the blond man. He did not bother to mention that producing his _godson_ again, for Voldemort to _torture_, had never been part of his plan.

In fact, last night after supper, when Snape had discussed the details of what Draco and Harry had still thought was to be a mock capture, it was decided that Draco was to remain behind. Severus and Harry would go to the edge of the Forbidden Forest to ostensibly gather the cotton feather leaf for the _Noche Suprema _potion. Draco complained that the illegal potion had been his idea in the first place. Severus assured him he hadn't forgotten that fact, with a dry, casually threatening attitude that made the blond boy retreat and Harry laugh a bit nervously. The wisdom of affecting the ruse while Harry's guests were still present was discussed, but the boy pointed out, rightfully so, that the Gryffindors, save Granger and Longbottom perhaps, would certainly wish to participate in such mischief. It would leave most of them fighting to go outside as well, while the others threatened to report the adventure to the Headmistress.

"Welcome to my world," Harry had quipped, when Draco chuckled about the oddness of Gryffindorks.

The plan became to proceed when the guests were otherwise occupied, or if need be, after they had left the castle. Severus had always planned to immobilize Harry with a sleeping curse before any of the Death Eaters present could do the young man harm.

Little else had gone according to plan, however. Things had first gone astray when Remus Lupin had cornered Severus at wand point in the first floor boys' loo during Harry's coming of age celebration. Lupin insisted that the Order members, and in particular McGonagall and Moody, wished an interview with him in the Headmistress' office. The Potions Master had stalled for time as best he could. He told Lupin that if they only meant to talk, it was hardly necessary that he be led there at wand point.

"There is significant distrust, as I'm sure you are aware, Severus," Lupin pointed out in that gentle manner of his that Snape always found rather annoying. "Hagrid took the children down to dungeons for safety. We would hate to see any of them harmed. I'm sure you understand."

"Quite," Severus had agreed, trying to sound somewhat cooperative. "But I have been here since yesterday, _as I'm sure you understand," _Severus pointed out with a hint of mocking snide. "If I had wanted to hurt anyone, especially Harry, I could have done so a dozen times over. Not to mention I have had custody of the boy since he left Privet Drive and protection of the Order. He has yet to come to any obvious harm."

"Well, that at least seems to have changed now," Lupin had opined amiably though his wand never wavered. "It seems that today you might see Harry brought to considerable harm, Severus"

"Not by my own will I assure you," Severus admitted and adopted the air of a man trapped by circumstance. It was only partially an act. "There are many things Minerva didn't tell you," Severus let out a resigned sigh. "What would you have me do, Lupin?" He asked after a brief pause.

"You can begin by giving me your wand," Lupin offered in a grim tone, as though saying it bothered him somehow.

Severus did his best to capitalize on the werewolf's discomfort.

"They do mean _me _harm you realize, Lupin," Severus told him as he reached for his wand.

"Surely not McGonagall," Lupin insisted.

"No, surely not," Severus agreed, "but, Moody, you said?"

Lupin knew only too well of his and Moody's short history of violence. He'd been there at most of those early Order meetings, when Albus would leave the room and others like Minerva, who might intervene, were absent as well. The Auror would hex the 'young man with Death Eater affiliations' using curses that were brutal and nasty, but not quite illegal, all in the name of the cause of the Light. Severus had for a time wondered if Albus knew what Moody was up to while others like Lupin stood by, too afraid, perhaps, to lift a finger. However, one time Albus had reentered the room while the one-eyed bastard was still having his way with him. He found a sweaty nineteen year-old Severus who had apparently shat himself. The old man was so angry that the temperature in the room dropped several degrees, but in the end the only spell he cast was a _Scourgify._ Then he ran a gentle, shaky hand through the younger wizard's hair and lightly caressed his cheek before ordering him to retake his seat. Moody had become more careful after that, and others more vocal about telling him to leave off. Not Lupin, though. He just sat in the corner wearing an appalled expression, as though afraid if he protested he would be next. It was extremely reminiscent of when they were boys at school and the fear that mixed with his friendship with Sirius Black and James Potter.

But as adults in the first floor boys loo, on the day Harry Potter came of age, Severus made eye contact with Lupin, certain their thoughts had traveled the same path. He waited for it, that brief moment when Lupin glanced away in slight indecision. It was all he needed.

"I can't let that happen, Lupin," Severus explained as he cast a c_oncussion _hex at his former year mate and colleague. It was the same one he had thrown at Flitwick the night Albus died. Well, Minerva really couldn't get any angrier with him, he reasoned, as he flipped the Angelth open to discuss the latest development with the Headmaster.

"Are you certain they mean to do more than discuss the situation, Severus," Albus had asked in that irritatingly reasonable tone of his.

"No, I'm not bloody certain, Albus," Severus admitted tartly. "But Moody has kicked my arse rather thoroughly a time or two, as you may no doubt recall." Severus took a breath and tried to get a hold of his temper before he spoke again. "I'm only guessing, Albus," Snape continued in a deliberately calm tone. "However, if I am correct," he went on, "it could certainly interfere with what you have ordered me to accomplish today."

Albus took that in and then continued to speak calmly, as though discussing a particular flavor of sweet.

"Remus is secure for the moment?" He asked.

"He is, Headmaster," Severus confirmed and spared a glance at the still form of the werewolf.

"There is a charm," Albus explained, "that you may apply to the right ear of the gargoyle at the left hand side of the entrance to my former office. It seals the tower from anyone entering or exiting, including through the floo, for the period of one half hour," he informed the Potions Master.

Severus had cast the charm and made his way quickly to the owlery. He informed his master that if he wanted a shot at the Potter brat it was now or never. He gave a brief overview of the situation. His note said that the powers that be at Hogwarts were on to him and perhaps Voldemort should send no more than two Death Eaters to meet him at the Apparition barrier. Severus confirmed he would see to it Potter that was captured there. Once he had sent the brief missive forth, Severus had raced down to the dungeons. He caught his breath as he entered through the portrait hole only to have that breath thoroughly knocked out of him again, as he saw and heard Potter on the verge of casting an Unforgivable at the Weasley boy. Severus had been furious, as the young man pleaded excuses that would only make sense to someone as reckless and irresponsible as Potter. Before he could stop himself he was chewing the boy out thoroughly. It took a great deal of effort to stop, as he forced himself back to the real purpose of his mission.

He secured the boy's wand, and as he led him from the school, Severus tried not to contemplate their chances of success. From what little he understood of what they would soon go through, the boy would be subjected to some sort of test of his ability to resist darkness. Albus counted on his essential goodness and purity of heart to see them through. Severus dared not contemplate how well he might fare, if the boy had suddenly taken to threatening with the _Cruciatus _Curse good friends who had the unmitigated temerity to annoy him.

Severus had to admit, the boy had given him the perfect opening for demanding his wand. He doubted Potter would have been so compliant if he hadn't thought himself to be in extreme trouble. And if the situation were different, he would have been. Severus had to seriously restrain himself from assigning the boy consequences on the spot. Somehow it was not remotely similar to his old anger, when he had wanted to punish and humiliate Harry for simply being alive. But despite that distinction, it was more intense. He found himself appalled that Harry would behave so outrageously, and felt almost duty-bound to see to it that Harry damn well never behaved in such a manner again. As it was, Severus had made the error of speaking first and thinking later in regards to Harry for the second time that morning. Who knew what dark acts Harry might be compelled to commit once Voldemort had him in his clutches. Severus was a spy for the love of Merlin, as such he was supposed to be clearheaded and cunning. Yet for the second time Severus began to chastise Harry without proper consideration as to how it would play out when he was forced to betray him. With that betrayal so very imminent, Severus' behavior was every bit as outrageous as Harry's.

Severus was still seething at the boy's audacity in pulling such an idiotic stunt, when they came upon Lucius Malfoy. However, his anger instantly and completely abated at the boy's look of confused betrayal. It tugged painfully at the Occlumency link before Severus abruptly severed the connection. Albus had ordered that as well, and Severus had been unprepared for the excruciating sense of loss had he had felt.

Severus Apparated with Harry a moment before Lucius did so. As the two materialized on the outskirts of the lair, Severus continued to order his emotions as Lucius materialized beside him. Albus had warned that he and Harry would be subjected to unimaginable darkness during the course of this ordeal. At first, Severus had doubted that there was any degree of darkness that he would find surprising after his years of service to Voldemort. However, it already felt like one of the darkest acts he would ever commit to turn Harry over to the Dark Lord.

"Our Master will be angered we did not bring Draco as well," Lucius pointed out a bit tensely.

After years of acquaintance, Severus recognized the nervous tone.

"Here. Take Potter," he told the blond wizard, as he handed over the messy haired burden. "Perhaps you will be spared some of his wrath if it looks as though you were integral to the boy's capture."

Lucius grabbed Harry eagerly and began to handle him with rough enthusiasm. Although Severus winced, that had been the plan. His own handling of Harry at the moment felt, and he feared looked, far too much like he was carrying a cherished child, rather than presenting the spoils of a well executed plan to his master. Severus could have, of course, forced himself to tow Harry by his untidy mop of dark hair as Lucius was delighting in doing now, but it felt far too excruciating to do so. He admitted stoically that he would probably be required to do much worse before this ordeal was over.

"Ah, my Severuss," the Dark Lord greeted as he and Lucius approached the throne at the center of the room. "You bring me a gift," he intoned, though it was Lucius who dumped a still-unconscious Potter at his feet.

"I have, my Lord," Severus confirmed as he dropped to his knees at the same time Lucius did. He noted that they seemed to be the only ones present, at least in the throne room.

"And Luciuss," he hissed dangerously. "I see you would damage that gift before I have had an opportunity to look upon it," he accused lifting his wand.

After the Dark Lord ended the _Cruciatus _Curse and the blond wizard writhed beside him, Severus couldn't help thinking that perhaps carrying Harry like a cherished child had been the better strategy after all.

"Where is your treacherous son?" Voldemort demanded of Lucius, casting two quick lashes of a whipping hex for good measure.

"Severus said…" the blond man began as he touched his face where the twin lash marks had raised welts on his cheek.

"Severus has brought me a gift," the Dark Lord interrupted. "Your worthless spawn is your responsibility," he let the lash fall again. "Is he not?"

"He is, my Lord," Lucius admitted meekly.

"I am afraid you will need to be disciplined again in his stead," Voldemort hissed in a dangerously saccharine tone. "Do wait for me in my private chambers so I may deal with you at my leisure," the Dark Lord commanded in a way that made Severus' stomach turn.

"I shall. Thank you, my Lord," Lucius nearly whimpered, as though he had been given that order far too many times of late.

Severus could not remember Lucius being ordered to the Master's chambers for private chastisement since their days as apprentices. The man shuddered as he recalled the startling array of magical and Muggle implements of torture the Dark Lord kept on hand in there.

"Now, Severus," the Dark Lord reminded, drawing his attention away from the retreating wizard, "you have not kissed the hem of my robes. Have you forgotten yourself?" he demanded."

"I have not, my lord," the man denied and moved forward to touch his lips to the filth-encrusted hem of Voldemort's robes. Merlin, but they could do with a cleaning charm.

"Please have young Harry do the same, so that when he awakens we may already have begun tutoring him in his place."

Severus maneuvered the prone boy so that his lips touched the filthy hem as well and waited for the next instruction. He tried not to contemplate his master's interpretation of the boy's _place_, nor Harry's reaction to that place when he awoke.

"Place him at my knees, Severus. Just here," Voldemort ordered impatiently as though Severus should have anticipated the next order. The Potions Master balanced Harry in a sitting position near Voldemort. He watched as the boy's head lolled innocently against the Dark Lord's knee and carefully Occluded his thoughts.

"Now, I have a gift for my gift," Voldemort hissed sibilantly, and produced a thin silver chain. He carefully slipped it over Harry's head, and let it fall to his neck. As Severus watched it magically tighten around the boy's throat, he noticed that the Dark Lord took a sharp intake of breath as a similar chain tightened around his neck.

"Now his magic is tethered to mine," Voldemort explained and he ran an ugly gnarled hand though he boy's untidy hair and breathed in almost lustfully. Severus had to tamp down a flicker of disgust as he watched the Dark Lord touch Harry in such perverse, oily affection.

"The other members of the inner circle have gone to make ready the remainder of our plans," the Dark Lord explained as he caressed Harry's pale cheek.

Severus dared not ask what plans, so he was relieved when the Dark Lord began to explain.

"I have you to thank for finally being able to solve this mystery, Severus," Voldemort praised. Severus held his breath and waited for the man to continue. "You will recall our conversation, where we discussed whether it was possible to love and hate at the same time?"

Severus knew he meant the time he had held him under the _Cruciatus _Curse for the better part of two hours. Severus thought about it blandly while carefully Occluding.

"I do, my Lord," Severus admitted aloud. "I recall you made some example of me that day, though I was dismayed to have displeased you so."

"You did not displease me precisely, Severus," Voldemort explained as though nearly killing Snape had been of slight consequence. "I was testing young Harry's feelings for you. I became curious after he rescued that ridiculous young Malfoy. Potter seems to have the ability to feel something akin to love for those he hates," he explained while stroking the boy's face again with the back of his hand. "He seemed to feel _both_ love and hate for you as well, Severus, as I made him view our experiment."

Severus made a doubtful disgusted sound in his throat. He had done the same the day Voldemort had tortured him those long hours while trying to possess Potter and gauge the boy's reaction to it. Voldemort cut off his current denial with a curt gesture.

"It was something _very like_ love, Severus," Voldemort clarified impatiently. "As I said, I have no experience of such things."

Severus had heard this often when his master would rage against Dumbledore and his belief in the power of the emotion. The Dark Lord would proclaim his pride in having no experience of love, or the experience being so remote he couldn't remember it. He claimed love to be the purview of the weak. However, the man reveled in every form of lust known to wizardkind. Severus thought about the way his hedonistic lord worked his way through new apprentices, most of them little more than children. He satiated himself with not only torturing them, but having his way with their young bodies in general, determined to possess them mind, body, and soul. The bulk of Draco's initiation had been during summer before Severus even knew he had been marked. He loathed contemplating what the blond boy had endured. With the ones Voldemort found attractive, things usually started out very much the way he was now fawning over Harry and quickly moved on to more serious sport. Severus tried not to shudder as he watched the man run his wraith-like fingers through the young man's raven hair yet again. He didn't think he could stand by and watch that happen to this boy no matter what Albus said. Prophecy be damned.

"Some time ago, I discovered a spell, dear Severus," the Dark Lord confided sounding a bit excited. An excited Voldemort was never a good thing.

"Did you, my lord?" he asked, attempting to sound intrigued as he wrestled himself away from his dark thoughts.

"I did," Voldemort hissed gleefully. "The first step is to tether ones magic to a wizard who is pure of heart like our precious Harry here," he began, sounding like a demonically surreal caricature of Albus Dumbledore when he spoke of the boy. "It must be accomplished within twenty four hours of the wizard or witch's coming of age. Then, a bit more difficult I admit, they must be convinced to join wands with the person they are tethered to and cast a killing curse upon someone they feel love for," the Dark Lord paused for a moment and smiled predatorily. "If such a wizard commits such an act at the time of their age of independence, they forfeit all their magic, both current and potential. It becomes the possession of the wizard or witch they are tethered to."

"That is wonderful, my lord," Severus enthused, thinking it was anything but. However, it definitely fit with Albus' assessment of the type of thing that might happen. "Who might you tempt young Potter to kill?" Severus was sure he would regret asking.

"I will start with his family, Severus," Voldemort explained logically.

"His family, my lord?" Severus asked dumbly.

"Of course, dear Severus, the others are retrieving the Muggles from the boy's home now. It was you who convinced me it was the best place to start. At first I thought such a thing was impossible, but your counsel has convinced me otherwise."

"Then I am pleased, my lord," Severus said doubtfully, wondering how in Merlin's realm he had managed that.

"Do you not recall?" Voldemort reminded. "After you punished Lucius with your delightful _knout _hex we later had a discussion.I wished to understand why he would be more upset by an image of his incompetent son being chastised than undergoing such treatment himself. I have seen in Lucius' mind that he hexes the boy with great regularity. You shared your belief that it was possible to love someone and still do them great harm."

"Ah," was all Severus managed, feeling a bit ill.

"That is why Lucius is so eager to accept chastisement in the boy's stead," Voldemort explained knowingly. "It is also partially why I wished his little bastard here as well. I wished to test my theory about the killing curse first. I am certain Lucius would have readily complied."

Severus shuddered, then immediately averted his gaze. _The man was barking._ Luckily the Dark Lord misinterpreted his expression.

"Do not be ashamed to have failed me, Severus. You did well to bring, Potter, and not risk loosing him to capture that worthless fool." Voldemort praised.

Severus was relieved he didn't need to come up with a response as it was interrupted by Voldemort's next request.

"Perhaps we should wake our young guest?"

888

The first thing Harry noticed when awoke was that they were no longer at the edge of the Forest but in some sort of stone chamber. Lucius Malfoy didn't seem to be around, but Snape was and he stood above him wearing an unreadable expression. Harry was trying to decide what to say or ask the man when he sensed something that felt like a giant spider making its way through his hair. He swatted and shook it off with a start. Harry scooted to the side as the thing dropped from his head, only to realize that it wasn't a spider, but a bony skeletal hand. He had to look up to discover who the hand belonged to.

"Bloody hell!" he exclaimed stridently. He scrambled off the stone step he had been sitting on and struggled to a standing position. "Voldemort?" The boy said shrilly. "I've got Voldemort playing in my sodding hair?" Harry questioned, looking at Snape wildly and pulling at his hair as though there was still something disgusting crawling in it.

"Now, Severuss," Voldemort was saying. "No one may use magic on the boy as any spell cast on him I will feel as well," he counseled. "You may use any other means, so long as you do not damage him permanently or prematurely. By all means see to it our young guest, remembers his place," Voldemort instructed.

"His place, my lord?" Severus dared ask for clarification.

"Why, yes, Severus. At the moment, his place is sitting beside me," Voldemort hissed silkily. "He is no doubt unaware of what an honor it is. Do your best to explain it to him."

Harry stared at Snape, his breathing becoming labored as he waited to see how the man might respond. He didn't know what they were playing at, or how much of the last few months was an elaborate hoax. _Was that even possible?_ _Was the Angelth even real?_ Harry wanted to rip it open immediately and find out. He tried to calm down and fiercely Occluded. He controlled his emotions and waited for the Potions Master to make a move. When no response was forthcoming, Harry grew agitated again. Losing his perspective on coherent thought, he launched himself at Snape in a ball of fury. He was intent on tackling the bigger man to the ground. The cuff across his face caught him off guard but didn't deter him. It was a particularly smarting one as Snape's cuffs went and it knocked him off balance. Harry scrambled to his knees and this time prepared to launch at the man's legs. A strong bony knee bludgeoned the boy in the chest, and cleanly knocked the wind out of him. He had to roll onto all fours to try and recover his breath. This had the unfortunate effect of leaving his backside vulnerable. When Snape landed his boot there Harry yelped, and immediately sat down upon the step in an attempt to protect his hindquarters. It took Harry a moment to realize he was sitting back where he started and he glared at Snape balefully.

"The Dark Lord wishes you to remain there," he told the boy simply. "He considers it a great honor."

"Does he?" Harry asked nastily. "Is _that_ why you brought me here then?" Harry questioned impertinently. In actuality, it _was_ a real question. He was hoping for an answer, a reaction, a hint, something… anything that would explain that Snape wouldn't_ really_ betray him and that Harry was being ludicrous even thinking such a thing.

"Well done, Severus," Voldemort was saying in clear enjoyment, "But do mind his face. It is very pleasant to look at." He caressed Harry's cheek where the back of Snape's hand had left a bit of soreness in its wake.

"Get your filthy hands off me!" Harry spat, coming to his feet again and moving away from the two wizards. He scrubbed the sleeve of his sweat shirt against his cheek where Voldemort had touched him. All the while he was glaring daggers at Snape.

"Careful, Harry," Voldemort warned as though truly worried for the boy's safety. "You are obviously no match for him physically. And as for magically, Severus do you have the lad's wand?"

"I do, my lord," the man acknowledged removing it from the inside of his robes.

"Please return it to him," Voldemort ordered.

Snape hesitated only for the barest of moments before complying, and he tossed the wand to Harry.

"Now, Harry, you are no doubt angry with dear Severus. Perhaps you would enjoy cursing him?"

Harry looked at his wand and then from Snape to Voldemort. This had to be some kind of trick. Voldemort's words were somehow familiar too, but Harry couldn't put his wand on why. He had a headache from his tight hold he was maintaining on his Occlumency shields and was still a bit fuzzy from whatever spell Snape had hit him with before bringing him here. _Why in hell would Snape bring me to Voldemort now? _Harry wondered angrily._ Why create such a convoluted lie, when he could have just brought me straight away, instead of going to Ireland?_ Harry was furious at the older wizard, but he was also confused and hurt. As angry as he was at Snape, the thought of raising his wand against the man made him feel a bit sick to the stomach and more than slightly afraid. The fear was hard to pinpoint. He couldn't suppress the feeling that it was wrong somehow, to raise his wand against Snape. Although that made no bloody sense at all, Snape had clearly betrayed him. It was hard to concentrate through his headache and desperate attempt to Occlude his thoughts.

"Come now, Harry," Voldemort chided silkily. "You haven't seen your dear old Potions Master since the night Dumbledore was killed, surely this opportunity is too good to pass up."

Harry's mind began to move faster, as he continued to stare down at his wand and put an even tighter grip on his Occlumency shields. He felt around for the Occlumency link, like a tongue poking at an empty hole where a tooth used to be. _Yep, still gone, _he thought. And yet Voldemort was under the impression he had not seen Snape since the Headmaster's death. That meant the past few months couldn't have been an elaborate hoax, which meant the Angelth was probably real, which meant… Harry wasn't sure what the bloody hell it meant.

"Come now, Harry," Voldemort offered in a seductive whisper. "Perhaps you feel like saying something _Unforgivable_. Severus tells me you did on the night our dear old Dumbledore met his end?"

Harry remembered that well. On the night the Headmaster died he had tried to cast a _Cruciatus _Curse on Snape. But Snape hadn't cursed him back. Instead he leveled a stern rebuke, before Harry could get the words out properly.

"_No Unforgivable curses, Potter_!" he had ordered stridently.

It had been an odd reaction given the circumstances. The man had just cast an _Avada Kedavra_, and he was chastising Harry for attempting a_ Cruciatus_, like there'd be hell to pay if he ever caught him at it again.

In the here and now, Harry continued the examination of his wand, but his skin colored when he thought about the tongue lashing he had received from Snape earlier for pretending he was going to use the curse on Ron. _Was that a ruse? _Harry wondered. _Didn't seem like one. It seemed like he wanted to take my ruddy head off. But then he brought me here,_ Harry frowned down at his wand. He briefly speculated that perhaps he was still unconscious and the _whole _thing was some sort of an illusion spell meant to teach him a lesson for joking around with the curse. Harry had never heard of such a spell, but it was possible he supposed.

"He has learned to master himself rather well, Severus," Voldemort opined irritably, his voice finally losing the saccharine tone and taking on a bit of menace. "I would think these mentions of Dumbledore would send him into fits of wand waving, but I am not picking up any distress. Did you hear word of who has been training him or whether he has learned any other surprising magic? For he certainly has learned to Occlude," he admitted nastily.

_Well that's something, _Harry thought and wondered why Voldemort did not try to push into his mind more violently. Then it struck him that he might be apprehensive as Harry had come out on top that time when he rescued Draco.

"Were you able to learn anything at all about his training?" Voldemort asked again?"

"I was not, my lord," Snape reported.

Harry noted the lie. He raised his wand and gained eye contact with Snape. The Potions Master stared back impassively. _If only I could get some response, _Harry thought. _He's playing at something. Am I supposed to play along?_ He wondered. _If so, he won't be very pleased with me if I tip our hand. __Maybe he wasn't expecting Lucius to be there that early and… where the bloody hell is Lucius anyway?_ Harry wondered suddenly

"Where's your girlfriend, Lucy?" Harry asked with deliberate insolence.

The raised eye brow spoke volumes. _Finally, a reaction,_ Harry thought and took a bit of comfort at its familiarity. _Too bad it doesn't tell me much other that he'd put his boot to my arse again if Tommy- the- amazing-snake-boy would let him._ Harry considered making additional comments inquiring if their date had ended badly, but thought better of it. Perhaps Snape didn't need Voldy's permission after all, and that wasn't the kind of response Harry was searching for at any rate.

"_Lumos,_" he whispered giving his wand a wave. And Merlin, was that a mistake.

Harry felt something like a tiny sharp chain tighten around his neck. It began to cut off his air and dig into his skin.

"_Finite Incantatum_," Voldemort murmured while waving his wand. "Ah, splendid," Voldemort let out a delighted hiss. "You have discovered what will happen if you attempt to use magic on your own." A smile lit the snake-like visage. "It will be much more satisfying if we cast a spell together. Come Harry," he beckoned the boy forth. "Join your wand with mine. It need not be anything complex to start. Your little _Lumos_ will do nicely," he hissed seductively.

Harry stared at the man incredulously. He stayed where he was and rubbed the circulation back into his neck.

"No?" Voldemort asked. "Ah well, perhaps later," he suggested as the chamber was suddenly filled with the sound of wizards Apparating."Delightful," Voldemort opined to Harry. "Your guests have arrived."

For a terrible moment he thought his friends had been captured as well. Then to his greater shock, the remaining nine Azkaban escapees plus Pettigrew and that bitch Bellatrix, appeared with horror-stricken Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley Dursley. All the Death Eaters, save Snape, dropped smartly to their knees. Lestrange, Avery, Macnair, Nott, and Jugson to the right of Voldemort's throne, Pettigrew, Rookwood, Crabbe, Parkinson, Bulstrode, and Goyle to the left. Malfoy was still conspicuously absent. Harry wondered vaguely if Snape had done something to the blond wizard.

The Dursley's watched the proceedings with terrified confusion, until Vernon's expression switched from horror to fury upon spotting Harry.

"What the bloody hell is this about, boy?" he spat and advanced on the young man.

Harry chided himself for taking an instinctive step back, but Voldemort was having a grand time.

"He reminds me a bit of your father Severus," he hissed delightedly. "Are all Muggles so _frightening_?" he quipped.

The assembled Death Eaters were amused at Voldy's wit. Rookwood chuckled without opening his mouth. His shoulders shook and he was trying to suppress great sniffing noises, as if unsure if laughter was allowed at this juncture. Conversely Bullstrode leaned to the side and punched Parkinson in the arm as he guffawed, and Bella cackled nastily like a parody of the foul witch she was.

"Who's this ruddy freak?" Vernon wanted to know as he pointed a fat finger at Voldemort. "Gods boy, do some of you lot look like that? How dare you have these freaks bring us here!" he bellowed at Harry, his face turning purple. "Send us back at once!"

Harry disliked his relatives, but the fact that Vernon's stupidity was probably going to get them all killed faster scared the hell out of him.

"_Shut_ up, Uncle Vernon," Harry suggested in an undertone.

"Shut up?" Vernon raged, coloring even more. "Shut up is it? Petunia, do you hear the way the boy speaks to me now? Can you believe he told them to bring us here?"

Petunia had the good sense to cower as she stared at the Death Eaters, Harry noted. She shielded Dudley as best she could, considering he was three times her size.

"Of course he hasn't brought us here, Vernon," Petunia disagreed, to Harry's great shock.

"He did so," Vernon said, sounding a bit like Dudley when he blamed Harry for something ridiculous. "He had the neighbor across the street trick us out of the house so this lot could grab us."

"These are the bad freaks, Vernon," she explained in a terrified voice. "They're not like Harry. They have obviously brought him here too. Can't you see how frightened he is?" she said in a concerned voice.

Harry didn't know whether to be more shocked that she had developed some sort of predetermined distinction between good and bad freaks, or that she actually noticed and was concerned that he was frightened.

Dudley shocked him next.

"She's right, Dad," he offered in a quavering voice. "H-harry wouldn't bring us here. Would you, Harry? Those Dementy thingys aren't going to come are they?" he asked, looking around fearfully.

Vernon suddenly picked up on their fear or good sense or both, and he moved to shield them with his body. He managed it better with his huge frame than Petunia had with hers.

"You're that Lord Voldymert then, are you?" he asked in coarse whisper.

Voldemort's gaze became intense and he seemed not to be so much listening to Vernon as looking inside him.

"Oh but you didn't tell me how deliciously cruel this Muggle was, Severus," he turned to the Potions Master. "Did you truly never see it in Harry's mind when the old fool tried to make you teach him to Occlude?" He asked Snape.

At Snape's confused expression, Voldemort continued.

"They kept him in a cupboard," he explained gleefully. "He was beaten with regularity," he continued. "Merlin's tits and arse, your childhoods were so similar you could be twins. Did you truly not know, Severus?"

"I did not, my Lord," Snape lied to his Master, again, Harry noted._ Did he _know_ Voldemort was going to bring my relatives? _Harry wondered angrily.

"Oh but this is better than I could hope for," Voldermort enthused. "You were positively brutal," he addressed himself to a befuddled Vernon. "Shame on you, Muggle," Voldemort admonished brandishing his wand. "_Cruc-," the_ evil wizard began.

"No!" Harry protested shrilly. Vernon stepped back onto Petunia's foot. Though he certainly had no idea of the pain that was headed his way, only that someone had a wand aimed at him.

"I jest, Harry," Voldemort let out a nasty laugh. "I'll not curse this Muggle. Not yet."

Harry had braced for the curse in sick fear.

"But in spite of everything I see in this Muggle's mind," Voldemort was saying, "you _do_ care. Fascinating. I shall remind you of his cruelty you'll surely join me in cursing him before long. And your dear aunt is right; you do seem a bit frightened. _Pensievo_," he said, aiming his wand at the stone wall.

The surface suddenly went concave and a slight ridging appeared at the edges. It was as though the entire wall behind his throne had been turned into a huge stone basin and placed on his side. Maintaining eye contact with Vernon for a moment, Voldemort put his wand to his own temple and withdrew a dozen so strands of memory and cast them lazily at the wall. Suddenly Harry and the others present were staring at a huge stone telly, in which Vernon Dursley and Harry Potter were the featured stars.

The image on the wall showed a marginally younger, and perhaps slightly less rotund, Vernon Dursley stalking towards a tiny white door that sat at the side of a staircase.

"There you see," Voldemort narrated for no one in particular. "It's the boot cupboard there."

Memory Vernon ripped the small door open and reached inside to pull out a tiny, wriggling, messy haired child with frightened green eyes. The child grabbed for the cupboard door. It was a futile effort to escape as the four year old was only slightly taller than the door, but he clung to it for dear life.

Harry in the chamber turned away from the wall pensieve and closed his eyes. But it was harder to block out the sound of his childish cries of, _I'll be good! Please! I'll be good! _

Harry remembered well at that age it had been his standard promise. Though he seldom knew what he had done to be bad.

Voldemort showed one image after another of Harry being berated, manhandled and generally mistreated at the hands of Vernon Dursley. He seemed to enjoy each one more than the next. Harry silently raged at what a twisted bastard Voldemort was as he tried to drown out the sound of little memory-Harry's pitiful sobbing. As he aged in the memories, and sounded more like his current self, the scenes became even more humiliating to endure. He began to feel a sort of oily sweat, as a silky oppressive darkness seeped into the recesses of his body. It felt familiar this time. It was the same darkness that threatened to overtake him the night he Obliviated Filch. It had gained an even deeper hold on him the night he delighted in Draco's punishment of Kreacher. Harry could recall himself drinking in the groundskeeper's fear and the sound of the little elves whimpers. As the darkness wrapped its long elegant arms around him now, he found himself thirsting for the taste of it again. Each time he gave in to the darkness its grasp seemed more seductively menacing. It was like a powerful magical entity, a live thing tantalizing and tempting in its silky authority, insisting that Harry do its bidding. _Someone should really pay for how hurt and humiliated I feel right now_, Harry reasoned. As the darkness took him Harry realized he still had his wand and practically burned with a desire to use it.

It was bad enough that Vernon had treated him so badly, but one hundred times worse to have it displayed for the amusement of this crowd. Harry cast a furious look at the Death Eaters. Avery, McNair, and Nott wore vaguely lusty expressions and seemed to be enjoying themselves as much a Voldemort. Harry jerked his head away, and his green eyes continued to scan the room, as the darkness persistently built within him. He made the mistake of catching Bella's eye and she winked and blew him a kiss.

"Poor baby Potter," she simpered for all to hear. "He looks like he's going to cry."

When Harry responded, it was as if the darkness spoke through him, and he found himself both pleased and appalled by what the darkness chose to say. It was as stylishly vile and profane as anything he had ever wished he'd said to Bella.

"I'm glad you're enjoying it, you fetid bitch," Harry called boldly across the chamber. "I'm surprised you and Tom here never married," he quipped nastily while jerking his head toward Voldemort. "You're like two sodding peas in a pod, you are. But then, why buy the goat I reckon, when you can shag her up the arse for free," the young man surmised nastily.

In the distance a woman gasped, and Harry determined blandly it was his Aunt Petunia. All eyes were suddenly on him and Bella rather than the wall pensieve, and the furious woman's face colored several blotchy, uneven shades of red as she drew her wand.

"_Crucio_," she yelled stridently.

It was just as well she threw the curse. If she hadn't, Harry would have, the backlash of his connection to Voldemort and Snape's admonishments be damned. The young man could fairly taste the curse forming on his tongue. He had intended to mean it this time. Before Harry had an opportunity to react however, Snape was in front of him. He cast something wandless, non verbal, and with hardly any hand movement. And he did so with seemingly practiced ease. It had the effect of making the curse rebound back on Bella. She fell to the ground like a sack of over- ripe fruit, writhing and bouncing upon the stone floor with a dull squishing sound. Without sparing Harry a glance, Snape spun toward Voldemort and dropped to his knees.

"Are you injured, my master?" Snape inquired frantically.

"I am unharmed, Severus," he responded dully. "However, how is it you know a counter that rebounds the _Cruciatus _Curse?" He questioned with more than a hint of menace. The Death Eaters who had previously been staring amusedly at Bella's twitching form, looked at Snape as though he had suddenly sprouted griffin wings.

"I confess I am uncertain how I did it, Master," Severus confessed in a rush. "I had only seen the spell once in a book."

"In a book, Severuss?" Voldemort hissed incredulously.

"Yes, my master. When the old fool finally gave me the Defense position he made me a gift of several Light magic tomes."

"Light magic?" Voldemort asked distastefully.

"I thought them worthless, Master," Severus explained contritely. "However, in my panic for your well-being should Bella's curse affect you through your connection with Potter, I instinctively stepped in front of the boy to attempt it. If nothing else I thought to absorb the curse upon myself."

"The spell is obviously _not_ worthless," he observed, his tone still extremely dangerous.

"I would be pleased to attempt show it the others if you wish, my lord," Severus offered in seeming innocence.

"A Light magic spell for my followers? How dare you suggest such a thing Severus?" Voldemort hissed in severely chastising tone.

"I won't use it again, Master," he said sounding a bit like a third year caught after curfew in the wrong part of the castle. "I doubt it would work if I did do, my lord."

"We may have to test that theory ere long, Severus," Voldemort threatened in strong rebuke.

"Your servant, my lord," Snape responded meekly.

"However, I shan't forget your loyalty, my Severus," Voldemort intoned his voice losing much of its shocked sternness as he motioned for Snape to rise.

Harry stared at Snape, not sure if it was the best or worst performance he had ever seen. It seemed to him like the most impressive bit of arse kissing he'd seen in quite some time. It reminded him for all the world of he and Ron when they were convincing Trelawney that _of course they hadn't just _made up_ their Divination homework_.

"Can you cancel the spell on Bella?" Voldemort asked, and all eyes turned back to the woman who was still writhing on the floor and had begun to scream.

"I'm afraid not, my lord," Severus explained. "From what I recall from my brief reading of the spell, it works on intention. It will last for the duration and with the severity Bella would have wished to curse Potter."

Voldemort looked again at Bella, whose screams were growing louder.

"Surely one of you would have stopped her when you saw the effect the curse was having on me?" he asked the room at large.

"Indeed, my lord," Severus concurred. "This is simply how severely she would have desired to curse him had no one intervened."

Voldemort shook his head as Bella continued to bounce against the stone flooring and beg no one in particular to make it stop.

"No one is to use magic against the boy," Voldemort commanded loudly to be heard above the din. "His magical core is now tethered to mine. And any magic against him will affect me as well."

A chorus of shocked _yes my lords_ could be heard throughout the chamber.

"Not that Bella had any business cursing someone without my permission at any rate," Voldemort said in a quieter voice that sounded a bit irritated.

Severus nodded his head in staunch agreement.

"Just as _you_ had no permission to cast your spell, Severus," he snapped crossly.

"I _do_ apologize, my lord," Severus intoned.

"It's no matter I suppose," Voldemort sighed while casting a casual _Silencio_ in Bella's direction.

"Well, Severus, what shall we do with our young guest?" he questioned indicating Harry with a nod. "Being rude to my followers and causing all manner of noise and mischief?"

"Perhaps we should wash his mouth out with soap, my lord," Severus suggested. "His language is _that_ coarse."

"Indeed, Severus. Indeed," the Dark Lord agreed with amusement. "Perhaps for the time being a continuation of the entertainment is punishment enough," he said indicating the Dursley's who huddled together in a shocked, frightened clump near the wall pensieve. "But perhaps I shall allow you that pleasure later on."

"I look forward to it, my lord," Snape agreed and for an instant he fixed Harry with a severely chastising look.

The look was replaced by his neutral mask quickly, but it had the effect of straightening the boy's spine and of loosening the grip of his dark possessor. Harry felt a wave disappointment wash over him as well. Instead of pushing it away, which had been his first instinct; he pulled Snape's disappointment closer and wrapped it tightly around him. As he did earlier with Kreacher, Harry used the more ordinary darkness to push the greater darkness away. With great effort, he wrenched himself free of the dangerous dark grasp, and was left feeling as though he had been dosed with several cauldrons of cold clean water.

"Now where were we?" Voldemort questioned as the audience turned back to the pensieve to a scene Harry soon recognized as the aftermath of Dudley's 13th birthday.

"But, Vernon you can't take it back," Memory Petunia was saying to Memory Vernon as he lugged a huge box from Dudley's bedroom. "Duddy loves that computer, and he's only had a few days to play on it."

"I'm sorry, Pet," Vernon explained sadly. "But we can't really afford it just now. I promise to make it up to Dudders, just as soon as business picks up,"

"But this year he only got the one gift, Vernon, we told him it was because it was a nice expensive one. What should we do?" Petunia asked as she followed Vernon's lumbering form down the stairs as he struggled with the computer box.

"We'll do what we've always done since Dudders was little and half his gifts disappeared when we had to return them, we'll tell him the boy did it with his freakishness."

"Oh, Vernon," Petunia sighed in an exasperated tone.

For a moment Harry was angry at this unexpected revelation. But when he looked at his cousin's face the bigger boy looked like he had just discovered there was no Santa, Tooth Fairy or Easter Bunny all in the same day. He made eye contact with Harry, and a look of understanding passed between the two. Then as though someone flipped a switch inside him the forlorn expression was replaced by a harder, angrier look. However, he seemed to sense that now was neither the time nor place for one of his famous Dursley tantrums and the boy turned his head and stared at the wall pensieve as though it was the most engaging thing he had ever seen.

Harry remembered that day well. Dudley and his friends had cornered him at the park and it seemed they were intent on murdering him before he finally got away. All the while Dudley was ranting about Harry making his computer disappear. Dudley had accused him of such things all his life and while Harry had done plenty of accidental magic, he'd not managed it near so many times as he was accused of it. When Harry was younger he thought Dudley was just lying to get him in trouble. In recent years when his cousin attacked him with such sincerity, he began to seriously believe the other boy was barking. Never in his wildest dreams had he thought his relatives were returning Dudley's gifts because they couldn't afford them. _Why bloody buy them in the first place?_ Harry thought angrily. He remembered he'd always get punished around Dudley's birthday and Christmas after things disappeared or mysteriously _broke_ and were thrown out, before they got home. It was usually used as an excuse as to why Harry never got any gifts himself. The young man's wand hand began to itch again painfully and he felt the darkness prickling again at the edge of his consciousness as he cast his gaze upon his aunt and uncle with loathing. Yet what he saw there made his breath catch and held the darkness at bay. They looked pathetic, and ashamed. Especially his uncle Vernon; he stared down at floor, as though urging the hard unforgiving stones to open up and swallow him whole.

"Duddy will be crushed," Pensieve Petunia sighed as she watched Vernon load the computer into the car.

"I really am sorry, Dear," Vernon admitted sounding more than a bit humiliated. "I'll borrow a bit more from my sister when she visits tonight. Don't forget the boy needs to move back to his cupboard, so Dudley can bunk in his old bedroom, while Marge sleeps in his."

"Dudley hates staying in that tiny room ever since we moved him into the old guestroom. And Harry has grown too big for that cupboard."

"It can't really be helped, Petunia. We haven't got a guest room since we moved the boy upstairs, and Marge has to stay somewhere. Maybe we can put the boy in the garden shed while she visits if that works better. Be sure to have Dudders wear the jumper she sent him, and give the boy his old one."

"Dudley's clothes are hanging larger and larger on the boy all the time. I'll certainly be glad when Duddykins looses a bit of that puppy fat."

"Now, Petunia, many children grow up wearing hand me downs. I wore my brother Nigel's till I was eighteen and on my own. I didn't ask to have a second child thrust upon me. Has the boy been complaining to you?" Pensieve Vernon asked crossly as he squeezed behind the steering column.

"No, Vernon, of course not. The boy's birthday is coming up as well and he always gets Duddy's old clothing around this time of year when your sister sends Dudders new things. Though we never make a fuss of it, I'm sure he appreciates getting new things in his own way. I'll hunt around for a few pair of trousers as well."

"Good idea, Pet," Vernon said as he started the engine. "And..." Vernon paused. "I am going to have to give him a good thrashing when Dudley finds his computer has gone missing. Perhaps throw in a few of Dudley's smaller T-shirts as well to make up for it. Ones with logos on them," he added. "Lads wear those a bit oversized don't they?"

Harry looked at his aunt and uncle. Their thinking was so bloody warped and, yet Harry was amazed by how much of his relationship with them had been built upon misunderstanding. He wanted to say something to them, but then a new memory began to show.

Memory Vernon and Petunia were neatening the sitting room. They were fussing with a plate of chocolate biscuits and fretting over the position of the tea pot as though preparing for an important guest.

"Are you certain he likes that kind, Pet?" Vernon asked repositioning the tray of biscuits again.

"Well not these precisely," she admitted. "I bought a more expensive chocolate kind. But I know he loves chocolate because they are the only kind he risks stealing from the pantry. They disappear twice as fast as when it's just you and Duddy at home nicking them," she explained.

Vernon looked as though he might want protest, but then thought better of it.

"Are you sure it's all right to ask him, Pet?" Vernon asked nervously.

"It can't hurt to ask, Vernon," she assured him. "He's got money now and we could use a bit. It's not as though your sister hasn't helped us make ends meet all these years. It's time my side of the family picked up its end a bit."

Vernon frowned seeming a bit embarrassed.

"It will be fine, Vernon. Harry's not a bad boy really. If it weren't for his freakiness…"

"I thought if I could only _make_ him stop it…" Vernon intoned regretfully. "I was trying to keep us all safe from it, Pet," his voice became adamant. "I tried to ignore that that first letter, didn't I? Ruddy owls," he grumbled. "I put us all in danger at that bleeding stormy seaside hut to keep them from dragging the boy away that first time."

"I know, Vernon," Petunia soothed, patting his huge arm. "You tried his second year as well."

"Flying car," Vernon remembered in seeming anger. "Ah well, none of it can be helped now," Vernon sighed.

When Vernon turned to the stairs and called, _Boy_, Harry knew exactly what day he was viewing. It was his first day home at the beginning of summer. Seeing his relatives' unfiltered perspective of things was bizarre and made him feel incredibly uncomfortable. Harry closed his eyes again as soon as Memory Harry made an appearance. However, as with earlier he could not drown out the sound, though he tried very hard. He cringed through, Vernon's clumsy inquires about his godfather's estate and awkward attempts to get Harry to eat a few biscuits. His face colored with shame when he heard himself suggest, in a positively surly tone, that Vernon should shove the biscuits up his fat arse. _Merlin, did I _really_ say that? _Harry thought. He sounded the absolute epitome of an impertinent spoiled brat, ten times worse than anything Snape had ever accused him of being. The Death Eaters and Voldemort laughed heartily, all save Snape who wore the same unreadable expression he had favored all day. Those assembled laughed more heartily still as Vernon gave Harry one of the more sound cuffings about the face and head that he had received in a while and towed him upstairs to be locked in his room.

"Well, our young hero finally stood up to the big bad Muggle only to be thwarted again. What do you think, Severus?" Voldemort addressed himself cheerfully to Snape.

"I am still in favor of the soap, my lord," Severus deadpanned to the great amusement of those gathered.

Snape repeated this opinion with such grimness, that Harry's face colored as though it were an actual rebuke. He found himself wanting to explain to the man that his words had been taken out of context.

But then they were watching memories of a purple faced Vernon pacing back and forth, enraged.

"Shove them up my…" he grumbled. "Did you hear how he spoke to me, Petunia?" he asked incredulously. "Did you hear it? How dare he?" Vernon seethed.

Vernon in the pensieve stalked around the sitting room and railed. Every once in a while he would prepare to the mount the stairs, think better of it, and continue his circuit around the room. All the while he mumbled to himself about miserable, ungrateful, little brats.

"Is this because he comes of age at the end of summer like that old freak said?" Vernon asked Petunia during one of his turns around the room. "Is that why he feels like he can speak to me that way?"

As Harry watched the scene in the pensieve he thought Vernon reminded him of a caged animal and seemed rather impotent in his rage. He kept muttering that he should be able to do something.

"If this had been a few years ago I would give him a bloody good hiding," Vernon proclaimed one of the times he stopped at the stairs. "I don't care about that freaky spell he does. I should do something. He shouldn't just get away with insulting me like that."

Harry had felt at the time that his uncle and aunt had _done_ plenty. The boy's ears had rung for hours after having them so severely slapped back. And no meals were always hard to endure after a school year of eating well at Hogwarts. But now looking at Vernon in the memory, it was obvious the man felt he had no real recourse. He was humiliated to be spoken to so, and felt helpless to do anything_ real_ about it. In spite of how his uncle had always treated him Harry found he felt ashamed to be the cause of such humiliation. Again he felt like he would like to say something, but the Harry in the pensieve did it for him. It was the morning after his dark dream and his conversation with Dumbledore via the Angelth. The Headmaster had instructed him to apologize to his uncle, and Harry had obeyed though he was loath to do so.

"Morning, Uncle Vernon," Pensieve Harry greeted and approached the breakfast table with confident sincerity that was mostly an act. He had been shrouding himself in Dumbledore as he recalled. "I'd like to apologize for how I spoke to you the other day. It's no excuse really, but I let myself get upset too fast, when I should have just told you I didn't want to talk about my godfather. Anyway," Harry in the pensieve paused. "I shouldn't have spoken to you that way, and I'm sorry."

Harry remembered that the apology hadn't hurt at all as he thought it might. Knowing what he knew in the here and now he found himself pleased to have made it.

Vernon in the memory, gave a gruff nod of acknowledgement, and Harry remembered thinking he looked a bit smug as he glanced at Petunia. Now Harry realized it was relief at getting a bit of his dignity back.

"And once again," Voldemort offered dramatically. "The hero of the wizarding world is humbled by this fearsome Muggle. Come now, Harry," he addressed the boy winningly. "Starved? Beaten? Despite the fact that they are your family and you feel some love for them, there must be some part of you that wants to seek _revenge_."

_So that's the game, or part of it_, Harry thought_. He wants to entice me to revenge_. Finally, he recognized the situation was near identical to the nightmare where Voldemort wanted Harry to join him in cursing Snape. _Took you long enough, Potter, _Harry berated himself. He wasn't sure what Voldemort would gain from such an action, but Harry was abruptly certain he would be damaged by such a course irreparably. With that thought in mind it was easy enough to refuse, but he knew if he didn't curse his relatives, Voldemort eventually would and odds were none of them would leave there alive. A tenuous plan began taking shape in his head and as usual he spoke up before it was fully formed.

"I'll not harm my family," Harry explained adamantly as he looked into Voldemort's red eyes.

"I have an idea, Master," Wormtail piped up enthusiastically. Voldemort looked at him sharply. Beyond a few chuckles, thus far the only ones to speak save Voldemort and Harry were Snape and Bella. The rat brazened on, perhaps convinced his idea had merit. "What if you allow us to take turns cursing those two," he indicated Petunia and Dudley, "until Potter agrees to curse the fat Muggle?" he suggested proudly.

"Please do not speak out of turn again," Voldemort instructed after he cast several lashes of a flogging hex in Wormtail's direction and the man whimpered regretfully. "Your time alone here without the senior members of the inner circle has obviously left you addled, little rat. Make yourself useful and take Bella away. Her infernal convulsions have grown rather annoying," he indicated the woman still spasming helplessly against the ground. "If the curse_ ever_ ends, give her _Cruciataserum_." he ordered, sounding like he was getting more frustrated by the moment. "I'm not done with you yet, Bella," he warned as Wormtail moved to remove the woman. "I want you healthy enough to accept chastisement from me, if you live." Harry did not fail to notice that Voldemort could use his magic independently despite their connection.

"Wormtail's idea is not without merit as a last resort," Voldemort threatened as he turned back to Harry.

"I've got a better one, _Tom_," Harry explained matching the other man's tone as best he could with a confidence he did not feel. "Send my aunt and cousin away to safety, and then I'll deal with this Muggle."

"You will join me in punishing the Muggle?" Voldemort queried as though surprised to have won so easily.

"Is that a trick question?" Harry asked angrily. "You saw the memories."

"Splendid," Voldemort said shrewdly "Jugson, Crabbe, Goyle," he commanded and motioned for the men to rise.

"Three is a bit of an _overkill _I think," Harry intoned pointedly. "In fact I believe I would prefer it if just _Goyle_ was assigned the task," Harry suggested before the men could rise.

"Goyle…? Voldemort asked in confusion.

"Yes," Harry confirmed. "_Gregory_ Goyle.

"Gregory?" Voldemort questioned. "Ah, yes. You of course mean Severus?"

"Yeah, him," Harry answered rudely. "He's your regular sodding lackey isn't he?" He was treated to another angrily raised eyebrow from Snape.

The rudeness was for show, Harry hoped the man knew. In truth, Snape was the only person he trusted not to harm his family.

"Yeah, I know," he replied cheekily. "Soap."

Harry hoped Snape recognized the tone for the friendly cheekiness he used with him all the time now. The Potions Master had actually seemed to enjoy it a bit. However, Harry had a strong suspicion those days of casual banter were over and the prophecy would end today. _Either must die at the hands of the other, for neither shall live if the other survives._

"Severus," Voldemort commanded. "Take these Muggles to…"

"Hogwarts," Harry interrupted.

"I'm afraid, Severus' weekend pass at Hogwarts was revoked," Voldemort explained.

"He's a clever fellow; he'll figure it out," Harry opined confidently. "And I'll not make a move till he comes back and reports they are safe," Harry promised and sat casually upon the step where Voldemort had wanted him earlier. "Just tell McGonagall that Tom here is going to kill me if you don't return within the hour," Harry instructed cockily.

His master nodded to Snape, and it took the man two Apparition trips and twenty minutes to come back and report his cousin and aunt safe.

Petunia had been Apparated away screaming, and Vernon told Dudley to take care of his mum before the heavyset boy disappeared. The boy's earlier anger was again replaced by fear and he promised his father solemnly that he would, before vanishing along side Snape with a loud pop.

"Thanks, Professor," Harry intoned sincerely when Snape returned.

"I guess it's you and me now, Uncle Vernon," Harry told the man as he rose to his feet in a tone that was both resigned and determined.

"Now for the main event," Voldemort enthused, while beckoning the young man forth. "Please join me, Harry," he commanded silkily, a radiant look of triumph upon his face.

"No can do, Tom," Harry replied after a pause. "I'm terribly sorry about that."

"What…" Voldemort sputtered, taking a step toward the boy.

"I said I wouldn't harm my family, _Tom_. Surely you heard me." Anxiety was making him cocky and reckless, but he had come too far to turn back now.

"This Muggle is not your blood," Voldemort argued stridently.

"He's my uncle, Tom," Harry explained as though Voldemort were quite dim. "That's why I call him_ Uncle_ Vernon. You can't honestly expect me to curse my own uncle…"

"Severus?" Voldemort questioned in angry frustration. "What do you make of this?"

The Potions Master looked back helplessly.

"I am not certain, my lord, I…" the _Cruciatus _hit before he got the words out.

"It would be awful if he accidentally managed that reversal thing again," Harry opined before the curse had lasted ten seconds.

Voldemort canceled the spell abruptly and glared at Harry.

"I'm just saying," the young man explained in casual innocence.

"You'll not curse this Muggle?" Voldemort asked again in a strident tantrum-like tone.

"Sorry, Tom. I can't," Harry replied apologetically.

"Well, I certainly shall!" he cried brandishing his wand. "_Crucio_," he said nastily.

Before the curse landed Harry launched himself in front of Vernon. It _had_ been his plan, but he really thought Voldy would blast out with an _Avada Kedavra _straight away. Then he'd be dead and Voldy would be dead and the prophecy would be put to rest. He had even begun to consider that perhaps that was why Snape had brought him in the first place. But instead Voldemort howled in pain as Harry gritted his teeth and buried his head in his Uncle's soft cushiony chest. It was very like an embrace and would have felt rather nice if it were not for the excruciating pain.

"Boy?" Vernon questioned anxiously.

Voldemort sunk to his knees as he was affected by the curse as well. Harry began to slip to the ground when the curse traveled to his legs making them buckle as Voldemort sunk lower.

"Boy are you…" Vernon began to ask while trying to catch Harry beneath the arms.

The only expression of concern Harry could ever remember hearing from his Uncle Vernon, was cut short as the _Avada Kedavra _struck the man's heart.

"Uncle Vernon?" Harry questioned as the huge man's body struck the stone floor. "Uncle Vernon?" He said a bit more insistently as he crawled level with the man's head. "I'm sorry, Uncle Vernon," Harry choked as his burning eyes stared into the man's too-still face.

The young man realized there was only one chance left. He rolled on his side and leveled his wand at Voldemort.

"_Avada_…" He began, only to hear Snape's shrill cry.

"No, Potter!" The Potions Master bellowed as he kicked the wand from his hand. Harry scrambled on all fours to retrieve it only to be hauled up by the scruff of the neck. Snape slammed him against the wall and glared at him sternly. Harry glared right back. Then, not wanting to waste such direct eye contact, he tried to force his way into the other man's mind. Harry pushed with all his magic and fervently wished for answers. Suddenly the Occlumency link was reestablished.

_**A surprised Severus looked around the pathway frantically as though fearful they might be seen. Before Harry could make any comment, he was hauling the young man down past the Band of Emotion, painfully and rapidly by the ear. When they arrived in what turned out to be Snape's dungeon. The man released his ear only to cuff him smartly on the back of the head. Harry rubbed the back of his head and then his ear. He pondered for a moment that you could feel pain in the link. He certainly hadn't known that before, nor had he known you could get smacked around. I guess it's sort of a mental slap, he thought ruefully, his hand going to his head again. Harry wondered why Snape had never done that before when Harry annoyed him in the link with all his chattering thoughts.**_

"_**I shall do so again if you do not stop that annoying chatter at once," Snape warned and Harry clamped down on his thoughts.**_

"_**Right," Harry responded in embarrassment, "But, what's going on, and why'd you bring me to Voldemort? And now I'm here why didn't you let me cast the killing curse? It would have ended that bastard once and for all."**_

"**_Not to mention it would have ended everything else as well. What the bloody hell does _no Unforgivables_ mean to you, Potter?" Snape asked snidely._**

"_**What's going on? Harry asked, "Why am I here?"**_

"_**You have a bad habit of snooping around my personal thoughts uninvited," Snape complained.**_

"_**Are you going to answer me?" Harry asked when the man failed to give more of a response.**_

"_**No, Potter," Snape answered sternly after what felt like a slight hesitation. "Do not attempt to establish this contact again. **_

And the link ended as abruptly as it began. Harry felt around for the connection only to realize it had been severed again and he struggled angrily against Snape's grip.

"Geroff!" Harry demanded as Snape held him painfully against the wall. How dare Snape mess about like this? He could have bloody told him something.

Snape hauled him by the arm and collected his wand on the way only to toss him in an unceremonious heap in front of Voldemort.

"Mark my words, boy," the dark wizard hissed menacing, all hint of camaraderie gone. "You will join wands with me!"

Unfortunately for Wormtail he picked that moment to reenter the chamber.

"Bella stopped twitching and I tried to give her a bit of serum," he reported to Voldemort. "She isn't quite herself though, Master," the rat faltered as though afraid to be blamed. "I think she's… dead actually," the man explained apologetically.

"Yes, that would be very unlike herself," Voldemort agreed impatiently and beckoned the rat forth. "Wormtail, come here," Voldemort commanded, nearly irrational with anger as he snapped his thin fingers for Severus to give him Harry's wand.

When Wormtail approached Voldemort motioned him curtly to his knees, and roughly stuck his wand to the rat's temple to extract a bit of memory

"As I recall, Harry," Voldemort stated nastily. "You showed Wormtail mercy at one time. Isn't that right, Wormtail?" He addressed himself to the rat. "If it were not for young Harry here you would have never made your way clear to rescuing me?"

"True, my lord," the rat agreed nervously.

"It only proves you must feel _something_ for him to show such mercy, eh Harry?" Voldemort surmised.

Harry tried to fathom what the man was driving at with the _feel something _bit but remained silent

"But, you must also have a good deal of hatred to know that it was this simpering coward who betrayed your parents."

Voldemort threw Wormtail's memory at the wall pensive with an angry flick of his wand. As the smoky memory flew through the air and struck the concave surface, an image Harry recognized as a nineteen or twenty year old Sirius Black appeared beside a boyishly chubby Peter Pettigrew.

"Of course I'll do it, Sirius," Pettigrew in the memory was saying sincerely. "I won't let you down. But are you sure it should be me?"

"It's for James, Lily, and the baby, Peter. Everyone expects me to be the Secret Keeper," Sirius explained, laying a brotherly hand on the smaller man's shoulder. "But they'd never guess we switched to you."

"Right," Pettigrew nodded with determination. "I still say I should do a bit of snooping to see what the evil bastard knows. No one would notice a rat," he argued.

"It's too risky, Peter, and I don't want you trying it, or I'll bloody kick your tail for you," Sirius warned.

"All right, Sirius. All right," Pettigrew agreed. "I just want to help. You know, do something important. The Headmaster never gives me anything important to do. Like this morning's Order meeting when he had you, James, Lily, and Remus stay in the room, but he asked me to step out. I think he thinks I'm stupid or something."

"Merlin's balls, Peter, he does not! Stop being such a whiny little twit. He asked Hagrid to step out too, along with Mundungus and a half a dozen others. I think he just doesn't want any one of us knowing too much, makes it less of a risk that way," Sirius explained.

"But why would he keep me out when you lot got to stay?" Peter asked sullenly.

"What do you care?" Sirius shot him a cheeky grin. "You stayed anyway didn't you?"

"What?" Peter asked his chubby cheeks coloring. "What are you talking about Sirius?"

"I saw you, little mouse," Sirius waggled a finger. "And this wasn't the first time either."

"I just like to know what's going on," Peter explained defensively.

"Well don't let the Headmaster catch you listening in where you shouldn't in your Animagus form, he might hex you or something."

"Sweet old Dumbledore?" Peter asked incredulously. "I know he's powerful and all, but I just can't picture him hexing anyone," Peter asserted.

"He did me and James that one time when we were still in school," Sirius reminded. "Just be careful is all I'm saying," he warned.

"Yeah, I'd forgotten about that," Peter shivered. "Boy, Dumbledore _was_ mad! But that was different," the smaller man argued. "You and James had nearly gotten Remus to kill Snivilley."

"Remus barely grazed him, and the git wasn't anywhere near dead," Sirius argued. "The old man overreacted completely."

"It could have been worse," Peter surmised.

"I don't see how," Sirius opined ruefully.

"I dunno," Peter replied a smile curling the edge of his mouth. "Azkaban maybe?"

"Right," Sirius snorted. "Like any of us Gryffs will ever wind up there. No, seriously though, after the old man was through with us, James and I had to put cushioning charms on everything for a week."

Harry found himself shifting a shocked glance in Snape's direction wondering if this information was news to him. He caught the man in a rare surprised moment, his mouth hanging slightly ajar. He closed it with a snap upon noticing the young man's gaze and firmly slid his neutral mask back in place.

"Yeah, I remember now," Peter was saying as he grinned trying to control his sudden laughter.

"It wasn't funny!" Sirius groused, socking the shorter man on the arm.

"It was a bit," Peter disagreed, "It didn't work at all on your brooms," he laughed harder as he stepped out of range.

"I'll get you, you rat!" Sirius growled as he caught the other man in a headlock.

"All right, Sirius," panted Peter breathless with giggles. "I give. Leggo. I give up!"

Sirius released him after knuckling his head, and Peter moved away a pace to catch his breath.

"Just be careful," Sirius warned turning grave again. "You're Secret Keeper. That's important. Don't go off risking yourself unnecessarily."

"But, Sirius," Peter argued. "If I can sneak around and listen in here without Dumbledore catching on, I should certainly be able to get close to old Voldemort. I got a tip about where his current hide-out is and…"

"No, Peter!" Sirius cut him off angrily. "You're not doing it and that's it!"

"All right, Sirius calm down," Peter told him. "It was just an idea really."

Sirius gave the man a hard look before speaking again.

"Good then," Sirius nodded grabbing his bag. "I've got to get going, all right?"

"Okay. Sure," Peter agreed. "I'll catch up to you later then."

The moment Sirius departed Pettigrew's face lit with an unsettlingly determined smile and he grabbed his own bag to go.

For the second time that night Harry felt the darkness begin to build at an alarming rate. _How could this sincere looking little knob of a man have betrayed my parents? How could he have pretended to be so chummy with Sirius, only to go out and do what he did? _Harry wondered angrily

The next memory seemed rather distorted until Harry realized he was seeing a rat's eye view. Peter was scampering quickly across a stone floor that looked very familiar to the one they were standing on now. He was making his way to a huge ugly throne that looked identical to the one Voldemort was perched against currently. Rat Peter was climbing back and forth under the legs and along the under side of the seat as though searching for a good place to conceal himself All of a sudden Peter let out a faint squeak and there was a wet crunching sound as Nagini sprung out of nowhere. They sped along faster than ever, Peter riding in the snake's mouth and as suddenly as she struck, they stopped moving.

"Ah, Nagini," a younger and less grotesque version of Voldemort greeted his pet. "I see you have found a lovely rat for a snack… What's that?" Voldemort questioned with sudden sharpness and then quickly leveled his wand.

Suddenly Peter's perspective changed again to that of a man and he cried out in excruciating pain.

"_Legillimens_," the Voldemort in the pensieve whispered silkily and began raping his way through Pettigrew's mind. All the while the round little man thrashed about and screamed.

"No, " Peter cried miserably, even as Voldemort healed him.

"Well," Voldemort inquired silkily. "What shall we do with you?"

"Kill me, please," Peter begged mournfully.

"I think not," Voldemort answered silkily. "You have rather fascinating memories. I believe I shall keep you as a pet. A bit of a playmate for my Nagini, and myself as well," he clarified, and then he leveled his wand again. "_Imperio_," he whispered and ordered Peter to extend his arm. "Peter Pettigrew," he commanded putting the tip of his wand to the young man's forearm. "You are now, and ever shall remain, my most loyal servant," he lifted his wand leaving a grotesque skull and snake tattoo in its wake.

Harry looked away from the wall pensieve and cast his gaze at a nervous looking Wormtail. The man before him was light years older than the eager, chubby boy in the memory.

"There. You see, don't you, Harry?" Voldemort in the here and now said triumphantly. "If it weren't for this weak fool, your parents would be alive."

Harry had known for some time of course what Pettigrew had done, but he had never known how Voldemort had come by the information.

"Surely you will join me in punishing him?" the evil man suggested seductively.

Harry felt a bit dizzy as the darkness that had threatened to overtake him at the outset of the memory was suddenly sucked from his body as if by a vacuum.

"No," he answered simply.

"No?" Voldemort questioned enraged.

"I'm sure you heard me, Tom," Harry answered boldly.

Voldemort was apparently fed up with Harry addressing him thus and reach out to grab the boy roughly by the hair.

"You will learn to obey me, Harry," Voldemort hissed breathily as he yanked Harry's head back to reveal his scar. "All those marked by me must do so. Since you yourself have been twice marked," he ran a scaly finger along the raised edge of the crimson lightening bolt, and then gently caressed the chain about his neck. "I shall have scant patience for such defiance."

As Harry struggled against the larger man, he dragged the boy closer. He clutched both wands and crushed Harry's smaller hand around them while he shouted.

"_Avada Kedavra_."

Harry finally wrenched himself and his wand free from the man's grip and was across the chamber, before Wormtail was halfway to the ground. The boy looked on helplessly as Peter Pettigrew joined his Uncle Vernon on the chamber floor. Voldemort breathed in deeply and then felt frantically felt around his body as though searching for his Galleon purse. Finally, he looked at Harry and Pettigrew in turn and shook his head in disgust. Voldemort walked over to the rodent and severed his silver hand with his wand and set the thing gingerly on the floor by his throne.

"I_ will_ have your magic boy!" he asserted angrily leveling his wand at Harry across the chamber. Harry shoved his hands in his pockets as though to hide them, and his left hand brushed against a small square box. He suddenly realized he was wearing the same trousers he had transfigured for Bill Weasley's funeral and silently thanked his Uncle Vernon for providing him with so few changes of clothing. An idea took shape, as Harry slid open the little box and worked one of the pellets free. After a pause Harry took several bold strides in Voldemort's direction. He stopped when he was directly in front of the man, Voldemort's wand grazing his chin lightly.

"I'll never join you, Tom." Harry promised him. "But my magic…" the young man smiled slyly. "It is stronger than you'll ever know. Boggart!" The boy said loudly while surreptitiously dropping the tiny pellet at the man's feet and taking a step back. "Let's see what you fear, Tom. You'll note this magic has no effect on my pretty necklace."

No one was more shocked than Harry when the Boggart turned into him. However, he stood back and reacted smugly as though he expected nothing less. Voldemort's followers watched as their Master tried to_ Riddikulus_ , _Finite, Crucio, _and finally_ Avada Kedavra _the Harry Boggart away.

"You'll never defeat me, Tom," Boggart Harry told him as the clearly frightened wizard frantically waved his wand. It was when the Boggart turned towards Snape and transformed into Dumbledore that Harry decided to make his move. He transformed into an arachnid, as Snape whispered an _Obsucuro_, and the necklace about his throat spasmed slightly as it fell to the ground, Harry swung free of it, before it could tighten further, on a rapidly thrown web. He landed on the opposite wall and waited and listened to what might unfold.

Voldemort bellowed with rage at the abrupt loss of his magical connection to Harry and the apparent disappearance of the boy himself. He started cursing his followers as an expression of his disappointment and he ordered them to find the boy at once. Before any could leave the chamber, Harry thought to use the rock charm. He whizzed through the chamber pegging Death Eaters in the heads and shoulders only to land in the shadows across the room. Harry quickly launched assault after assault. It had the effect of the room being surrounded by rock throwers. Harry struck Voldemort several times. He avoided hitting Snape, though he passed dangerously close a time or two. Finally McNair realized it was a single stone, and Bullstrode suggested it must just be a Bludger charm Harry cast as a diversion to escape. Harry stopped when the Death Eaters thought to start casting pulverizing hexes and he barely avoided two near misses.

Back in spider form Harry listened while Voldy again ordered his followers to conduct a thorough search.

"Find the wretched boy and bring him back alive," Voldemort ordered.

Even with liberal use of the web, it took five long minutes before Harry found as spot to safely contact the Headmaster. If Snape couldn't tell him anything, certainly the Headmaster could, and the old man could help Harry decide what his next move should be. When Harry settled himself into a corner of a well lit, but secluded, little alcove, it was with stunned disbelief, that he opened the locket to find the tiny portrait had disappeared. The little case looked as empty as it had been the night Harry found it on the ground of the Astronomy Tower. Harry anxiously canceled the disillusionment charm on the thing and examined it frantically. It was as though the little portrait had never existed. Harry stared at the locket in horror, his heart beating wildly. _It didn't ever exist, _he suddenly realized. Somehow, some way, it had _all_ been a lie! After hours of successfully holding it at bay, the darkness returned full force. A wave of rage rose up inside Harry and the darkness began to fill him. He felt its oiliness pulsing through his veins. It was like a live thing filling his head and limbs with a hungry blackness until he felt completed by it. Without consciously deciding to do so, he bounded back to the stone chamber at a heart stopping clip. The words, _It was a lie, It was a lie, It was a filthy buggering lie, _pounding out a rhythm with the sharp slapping of his feet. He met an unfortunate Rookwood and Parkinson on the way. They were hit with an impossibly tight chain binding hex and a wickedly stiff _Petrificus Totalus_ consecutively.

When he arrived back in the main chamber it was empty save Voldemort and Snape. The Potions Master was now knelt before Voldemort, getting a good telling off apparently, with a liberal use of the evil wizard's wand. Harry felt a thrill of pleasure at the sight, and made no move to suppress it. He wished the man would whimper so he could revel in the sound, but the Potions Master remained stoic under Voldemort's wand. With an angry sweep of his hand, Harry gathered up Voldemort's necklace from where it had fallen when he transformed. He slipped it over his head as he approached Snape, and yanked the Angelth from his neck. He slammed the empty locket into the Potions Master's hand, and as the man felt its shape, he raised his head and squared his shoulders as though determined to meet his fate bravely. Voldemort breathed a sigh of surprise and relief, when Harry retethered his magic to his. The evil bastard looked more surprised still when Harry approached and held the red gaze. When Harry joined hands with Voldemort it felt almost as though he had been heading for this moment all his life. _There have been two paths_, Harry realized suddenly. _And this has always been one of them_. He looked at Snape and the man returned his gaze impassively. Years of hate mingled acidly with his recent burgeoning love and respect for this man, and Harry felt he might vomit with the poisonous bile of it. It was Harry who began the incantation and Voldemort was his follower though in the end these things mattered little.

Harry vaguely remembered Snape falling in a flash of ugly green with a gentle spray of remorse. He recalled his own fall some moments later as Voldemort pushed him aside like a thoroughly used toy and leveled his wand at his heart. He felt a burning as the chain around his neck dissolved and heard the faint echo of the man's laugh. Then Harry was falling, and falling, through magnificent light into impossible darkness, seven levels in all, and black as pitch. Before he touched down he felt himself bounce once as something tugged unyieldingly at his soul. Then he was being towed up and up through the darkness and up through several layers of light. He was pulled up somewhat roughly onto a dais of light by a tall, strong form whose long black hair only partially obscured his stern expression. When Harry gained his legs and gathered the courage to raise his eyes, he was met by the twin disapproving glares of Severus Snape and Albus Dumbledore.

**_Ooh, evil cliffie, but not to worry, just read the next chapter. _**

_**But don't forget to review this one first.**_


	33. The Cup Runneth Over

**Disclaimer: **Well… some of the cool ideas are mine. But the main idea is not, so...yeah… not mine. It's hers.

**Did you read chapter 32 first? You would not have gotten an alert for it.**

**excessivelyperky **rocks. Thanks so much for accompanying me on this journey. It's been an amazing ride, but I am looking forward to relaxing for a bit and seeing how **_The Birthday Present_** turns out. Thanks again, your invaluable help has truly been valued.

**Bigstew** has been very helpful on the last few chapters as well, so thanks Stew. You rock!

**Kirinin** did the griffin's share of the editing on this chapter as well. Thanks a bunch **Kirinin**, you're the coolest. That takes nothing away from the lovely and talented **excessivelyperky**,or the eager and dedicated **Bigstew**. Thanks all of you for all your help.

**Enjoy **

**Chapter 33**

**The Cup Runneth Over**

Harry took in the fog like surroundings on the dais and swallowed once before he spoke to the forbidding figures of Snape and the Headmaster. He hated that the Headmaster looked so cross because no matter the circumstances, he was so happy to see him he wanted nothing more than to throw himself in the old man's arms. He controlled the impulse with effort and tried to figure out what was expected of him.

"That was some sort of test then, was it?" he asked tentatively.

"It was," the Headmaster admitted a trifle sadly.

_Bugger_, Harry thought.

"And I failed, I reckon?" The young man asked nervously.

"_Spectacularly_," Snape admitted dryly, causing Harry to wince.

"So then I guess we are all…?"

"Dead. Quite." Snape confirmed with a sneer.

Harry shifted a bit uncomfortably as both men continued to stare. He was relieved when the Headmaster finally relented. Dumbledore wrestled the Angelth from Snape's angry grip and gently placed it back on Harry's neck. A gentle old hand straightened the locket on the chain and Harry grabbed the hand before it could escape. He pressed it to his heart, and then moved it to caress his cheek, and touch his head, until finally it moved of its own volition. Albus carded his fingers through the messy hair, and then moved his hand to the back of Harry's neck and gave it a bit of a squeeze as Snape had often done. Then as Snape had never done, Albus pressed his thin lips to the boy's forehead.

"Harry, my boy," the Headmaster intoned kindly. "We have considerable work to do to clean up this mess, hmm? Well," he said taking in both wizards with an affectionate grin. "Shall we get started boys?" he asked, his eyes twinkling madly.

888

Harry seemed to neither hear nor understand the Headmaster, and Severus scarcely did himself as he watched the young man's gaze travel about the dais. Comprehension dawning deeper and deeper, as his horrified, guilty gaze swung back to Severus, seeming to have just worked out the magnitude of what he had done. Severus was still feeling exceedingly vexed. It was hard to banish the image of Harry stalking boldy into the chamber and taking his life with something akin to nonchalance.

"Why?" Harry cut off whatever Albus had been trying to explain with an anguished whisper.

When he was given a typically Albus, convoluted, evasive response Severus was surprised that it only took him a full five seconds before Harry began his rant. There was shouting, flailing of limbs, and profanity to spare. If the dais had contained any furniture there would be throwing as well. Severus let it go on for what he felt was a reasonable amount of time before he put a stop to it.

"Enough, Potter," Severus bellowed. "While Albus has perhaps indulged you in this type of tantrum of in the past, you and I have gotten to know each other well enough for you to know I'll certainly not stand for it," he advised in a warning tone.

While he was relieved when the boy stopped himself mid-rant, he was wholly unprepared for it when the young man started to weep. Huge tears began to fall from green eyes and he lowered his head as if shamed by them. The remarkable thing was that he made not a sound. Severus watched in dismay as the small shoulders shook and the young man wrapped his arms around his middle as though in an attempt to console himself.

Severus shifted his dismayed expression in Albus' direction and he could tell by the man's stern visage that he would get no help from that quarter. Snape decided perhaps he should have edited his opinion as to what Albus would tolerate from Potter versus what he would put up with himself. Severus always felt he was rubbish at this sort of thing, but he had managed to console many a homesick first year during his tenure as head of Slytherin House. He approached the young man tentatively, as one might a wounded animal, and he slowly enfolded him in his arms. Harry's reaction was immediate as though he had long been hungry for such contact, and he almost violently wrapped his arms around Severus' middle. Snape felt that perhaps the boy was trying to burrow his skull through his shoulder, so forcefully did the raven head press against his clavicle. After a few moments of drenching the front of Severus robes, Harry seemed to gain some mastery of himself with a long shaky breath and a slight loosening of his grip.

"I've had a rough day," Harry admitted his voice muffled against the man's robes.

"As have I," Severus intoned snidely, his warm breath ruffling the top of the raven head. "A reckless, irresponsible brat of a boy has murdered me at the Dark Lord's behest."

"Wasn't at his behest," Harry corrected sullenly. "I decided to do it on my own."

"Ah," Snape intoned sarcastically "That is of course much better."

"I didn't mean to," Harry explained as he pushed out of the embrace and took a deep shuddering breath. "The Angelth was empty, and I just sort of lost it, thinking the whole summer had been a lie. This darkness just seemed to take me," he admitted.

Snape graced Albus with an accusatory glare.

"You didn't mention you planned to deny him the Angelth as well," he chided the old man.

"It was quite necessary, Severus," Dumbledore explained quietly. "We needed to ensure that Harry relied only on himself and his essential goodness."

"Well that turned out bloody brilliantly didn't it, Albus?" Severus retorted with a bit of heat.

"Severus I'm not certain this is the right time for this…" the old man complained.

"No, Albus," Severus interrupted. "We shall certainly make time for this."

Snape reached one strong hand out toward Harry and laced his long fingers through the coarse hair at the base of young man's neck. He pulled the boy's head to his heart and pulled Harry himself into his soul. As they embraced along the Occlumency pathway, he explained it all, as Albus had not, before he put a firm, steadying hand on each of the young man's shoulders and released him.

"Wait…_essential goodness_," Harry repeated the phrase from both Albus' previous statement and the information imparted via the link. "What essential goodness? I bloody killed him Headmaster," he argued looking at Snape. "There's no essential goodness. There was just this darkness that tried to take me three times!"

"Three times you say?" The Headmaster quipped as he cast a side long glance at Severus.

"Yes, sir. Three." Harry admitted his voice quavering slightly. "And the last time, as you can see, it won." For a moment it seemed to Severus the young man might lose control again.

"I assume on your first two attempts you were able to keep it at bay?" Dumbledore queried.

"Yes, sir," Harry acknowledged reluctantly.

"Therein lays your essential goodness, Harry," the old man explained gently.

"But, Headmaster," he argued. "You didn't feel it. It was like the darkest magic you can image, and it was like it was alive and fighting for control of me."

"And you were able to defeat it, twice you say?"

"Look, Headmaster," Harry sighed, sounding a bit irritated. "You've got it all wrong. With all due respect, you always have. I'm not some paragon of purity you've always made me out to be. I'm just an average, ordinary wizard. And in the end the darkness kicked my bum. I lost, sir. You've always made me out to be something I'm _not_." The young man was nearly shouting at the end.

"Harry," Albus corrected kindly, "I have never made you out to be anything. You simply are who you are. Furthermore, we have not yet reached the end. This is very much the purview of ordinary wizards. And you, Harry, are the _only_ wizard for this task. However, I do confess to thinking you perhaps slightly _above _average."

"Task, sir?" Harry inquired insolently. "It'd be nice to be told about some of these tasks beforehand. This was all you, wasn't it?" Harry accused. "All of it. You made him do all that," he indicated Snape. "The capture. The Occlumency link. Everything."

"I have not _made_ Severus do anything," Albus insisted.

He gave Severus a strict look when the man made a doubtful choking noise.

"Severus was simply doing his duty according to prophecy. As were you and as you will continue to do," the Headmaster ordered his tone growing stern.

"Continue to do?" Harry asked in confusion. "But we are all dead aren't we?"

"Very much so," Albus admitted, looking around the dais. "But that does not mean we can afford to relax."

888

Harry looked at Snape incredulously and the man gave him one of those little half smiles that Harry had grown fond of.

Harry sighed and looked at the Headmaster.

"What's next then?" the young man asked.

"Next, Harry," the old man explained, with a fond smile. "You must travel back in time to a point where you feel it might be possible to repair and develop your relationship with Severus so the events that transpired today will never come to pass."

"Okay," Harry responded speculatively. "You mean like back to when I looked in the Professor's pensieve?" He asked.

"No, don't start there," Severus warned, shaking his head emphatically.

"_Why_?" Harry asked defensively.

"_Why?" _Severus mimicked incredulously.

"Severus," Dumbledore suggested, "Perhaps it best if Harry make decisions regarding how to determine the appropriate time frame independently."

"Why?" both Harry and Severus questioned in unison.

"It is simply something that might be best for Harry to decide autonomously," Dumbledore said by way of explanation.

"Merlin, Albus!" Snape spat irritably. "First the boy has to battle darkness. Alone. Next he must determine how to fix the mistakes he made while battling darkness. Alone. Not to mention that he must go back in time. Alone. Are the directions to this prophecy written down somewhere?" Severus asked sarcastically. "Or is this straight from _Albus' Almanac for Above Average Wizards?_ Merlin's beard, man…"

"Se_ver_us," Albus scolded.

"Because I'm fairly certain," Snape continued snidely. "That was the volume you were referencing when you were training me, and look how splendidly I turned out," he railed

"Now, Severus," Albus repeated firmly.

"Why _must_ he decide alone? He's just a child, Albus. A little guidance wouldn't be out of line here," Severus opined.

"Hey, I'm seventeen," Harry complained.

"Hush, Harry," both wizards responded in sharp unison.

"Severus," the Headmaster explained in an unyielding tone. "Whatever Harry does it must be his choice. It will be ineffective if he makes a choice based on your undue influence.

"That makes about as much sense as…" Severus opened his mouth to say. Then he thought better of it and closed it. Finally, he crossed his arms sullenly. Harry looked back and forth from one man to the other until his eyes came to settle on Snape.

"It is a mistake to choose that time frame," the Potions Master blurted, collecting a stern glare from Dumbledore.

"How's it a mistake?" Harry asked curiously.

"That time frame is far too late for you to get me to begin to care about you," Severus opined, continuing to ignore Albus' disapproving expression.

"Severus," the Headmaster warned. "It is paramount…"

"I won you over after the pensieve incident this time around," Harry reminded arrogantly.

"The _pensieve incident_? Snape sneered. "Is that how you refer to it in that pea sized brain of yours? And what makes you think you've won me over, Potter?" Severus asked indignantly.

"Severus," the Headmaster admonished.

"Well it certainly isn't the compliments you lavish upon me, sir. But I'm fairly certain you are actually fond of me now," Harry stated confidently.

"I am not," Severus denied, sounding more than a bit irritated to be accused of such.

"No? Who was it that hugged me not ten minutes ago?" Harry taunted.

"I would not have been forced to," Snape bit out, "if you hadn't insisted on crying like a little Huffle--,"

"Severus!" The Headmaster interrupted sharply.

"puff _girl!" _Snape finished snidely.

"Oh ho! Ouch!" Harry responded, grabbing his chest. "If I haven't won you over," Harry continued having far too much fun, "why didn't you do what you normally do when you see someone crying, eh? You know, poke them with a sharp stick or something?" Harry suggested cheekily.

"You should count yourself lucky I don't have a stick, boy," Severus responded menacingly as he advanced on the younger man.

"Harry, Severus," Albus warned sharply.

"We're only joking, sir," Harry explained and chuckled a bit at Snape's doubtful expression. "I think we are, anyhow. And I _will_ make the decision alone." Harry told the Headmaster, who looked relieved, Harry thought. "But first I'd like to get a bit of advice if that's all right," he explained. "A little guidance wouldn't be out of line, right?" the young man quipped, addressing himself to Snape.

"No it would not," Severus gave the Headmaster a smug look, which made Harry a bit uncomfortable.

"_Humph_," the old wizard muttered as he conjured a lounge chair and sat down.

"You can do magic in Heaven?" Harry asked, eyeing the comfy seat.

"In this part of Heaven you can," the Headmaster confirmed.

"Wicked," Harry intoned. "What part of Heaven are we in?"

"We are in the North West corner of Limbo, and I must say that _wicked_ is a very poor word choice given the situation," Dumbledore reproved, sounding a bit miffed.

"Right. Sorry, sir, " Harry agreed, feeling bothered that the Headmaster was bothered and wondering if he should apologize or something for being flippant. "I'd like your advice too sir," he told the old man.

After a pause Dumbledore donned an indulgent expression. "Only if that is truly your wish, Harry," he said as he transformed the lounger into a colorful floral print sofa and motioned for the two younger wizards to take a seat.

After much discussion Harry was convinced that it did make sense to go back a bit earlier. That way he could keep the pensieve incident from ever happening at all. Harry's final decision was to go back to his first day of Potions class when he was a first year. Snape was a bit apprehensive.

"Are you prepared? That was an intense day, and rather a difficult place to start," he warned.

Harry stuck by his choice so Dumbledore would be satisfied that he wasn't letting himself be unduly influenced. There came a time when Albus asked Harry in a rather formal way if his mind was completely made up. When Harry agreed it was a mid sized translucent platform, about the size tea table, rose from the dais in front of the transfigured couch. On it stood a single wooden chalice. Harry pulled his knees close so they wouldn't be bumped and stared at the little platform curiously.

"Did you do that?" He asked the Headmaster, for the old wizard had not so much as lifted a finger.

"No, my boy, _you_ did," the Headmaster said kindly and proceeded to reach for the goblet. "This is the cup of life," he explained lifting it gingerly by its stem and showing it to each wizard in turn. "As Harry gains success in his journey through the past this cup with fill with love and each of you will drink from it thereby atoning for previous mistakes and securing victory for the Light."

Here Dumbledore paused before beginning again as if to give what followed the proper weight.

"If Harry should fail this cup will grow dry, brittle, and warped and begin to sustain cracks and other injuries. This will reduce its ability to hold love. While it would take many such failures to render this cup of life insufficient to the task, you will have but three remaining chances to fill it."

Harry's mind for some reason keyed into the word _remaining_ and he found himself needing to ask.

"_Remaining_, sir?" the young man began. "You said _remaining_. Does that mean there were opportunities before?"

"There were, Harry," the old man admitted. "There were three others during your brilliant fight against darkness in the chamber."

"You saw what happened in the chamber?" Harry wanted to know.

"Indeed," the Headmaster confirmed. "I saw it here," he indicated the foggy surface of the platform. Now that Harry looked at it closer he could see shadowy figures moving just beyond the surface. "Severus and I will view your continued progress here as well," he supplied.

"You said I made the cup appear," Harry said. "When did it appear before?"

"I can not be certain," Dumbledore answered. "You had just cast a _Lumos_ and were in excruciating pain."

"Did it fill at all?" Harry asked, as he looked at the cup, somehow feeling his failure in the chamber more keenly than ever.

"Indeed it did, and gloriously well," Dumbledore's voice was full of pride. "If began to fill magnificently when you sent your family to safety and shielded your Uncle, then drained half way when you attempted the killing curse on Voldemort. It filled up again, almost to the brim, when you spared little Peter Pettigrew. Then it drained a final time, when you cursed Severus and the cup sustained a crack just there," the Headmaster pointed to a deep, ugly gash near the bottom of the cup, and Harry examined it with regret.

"Would you have drunk from it then, Albus?" Snape asked the Headmaster in an amazingly quiet voice.

"I would have been allowed," the Headmaster acknowledged. "And one cup would have released me from Limbo while still securing victory for the Light."

"It would have brought you back to life?" Harry asked excitedly.

"No, dear boy," the Headmaster said sadly. "It would simply release me from this place to join lost friends. It would take far more than one cup to sustain me."

"How many?" Harry wanted to know.

"Now, Harry," the Headmaster began, his voice going stern. "That is nowhere near your primary concern."

"How many, Albus?" Severus insisted.

"The cup would have to run over," Dumbledore explained after a pause. "But, a single cup will be more than enough to secure redemption for you two."

Harry was surprised to discover that the surface of the platform could be breached. And he actually entered through the top as one would a pensieve. But there the similarity ended because it was not a memory he entered, but real life. Harry felt his body shrink impossibly small, and suddenly he was sitting between a miniature Ron and Hermione in the first day of his first year Potions class. Snape slamming the doors wide upon his entrance startled the boy badly though he had lived it all before. If anything he found himself more frightened than the first time because he had the knowledge of how badly things had gone before, and how very much was riding on it now. Then Snape was talking and Harry took up his quill to write in and attempt to calm his nerves. It wasn't until the man called his name nastily that Harry realized his mistake and remembered that Snape had been irritated by what he thought was Harry's inattentiveness the first time around.

Snape leveled the standard insults about Harry's celebrity status and then began firing off a series of difficult questions. They were ridiculously difficult for first year. But Harry wasn't a first year and had been studying all summer to boot. He found himself answering the questions on instinct. Harry vaguely became aware that Snape was asking many more questions than he had the first time around. It wasn't until the man was furious that Harry recalled what Snape warned would have happened if Harry had actually known the answers to the questions.

Snape had told Harry, the night they brewed the Nochebuena potion, that it would have made him loathe the boy more. Harry had to admit, the man was as good as his word. One hundred points Harry lost in all. A whopping 98 more than he had lost the first go around.

This fact the current day Snape was quick to point out after he had dragged Harry out onto the dais and sat him roughly on the couch next to a slightly frowning Albus.

"One hundred, bloody points," the man bellowed at seventeen year old Harry. "And _what_ in Merlin's realm possessed you to call me _Snape_?"

Eleven year old Harry _had _done that this time around. It had slipped out when he was trying to discuss the points deductions.

"Please, Snape," eleven year-old Harry had beseeched, and that was when the month's detention was assigned.

"It slipped. I call you that sometimes now," seventeen year old Harry explained from his place on the couch next to Albus.

"Well, stop it!" Snape ordered as he paced about the dais and ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

"Yes, sir," Harry agreed and leaned forward to chance a look at the cup. He sighed with relief when he didn't see and new cracks, but it was then that Albus chose to speak.

"The cup was shaking quite violently, as if it might explode and we both thought it best to bring you back."

Harry leaned back into the couch his shoulders slumping slightly, and wondered how things had gotten out of hand so fast.

"You were reckless. You didn't think. You said you were prepared, but you weren't," Snape accused, his voice a bit less strident, but not much.

"I _was_ there, you know," Harry heaved a great sigh. "Do you think you might stop yelling at me some time soon, sir?"

"Why?" Snape asked snidely. "You should be used to me yelling at you when you do something stupid. One would think you would have come up with a more effective reaction to it by now."

888

No amount of discussion could convince Harry that his next trip into the past should not be the day of the pensieve incident.

"But you said it yourself, sir," Harry argued with Snape, "I should react better when I get you mad by doing something stupid. I think if I just go back and make a sincere apology you'll…"

"Kill you," Snape supplied. "Then Albus in the past will surely kill _me_, and we will all wind up back here anyway," he summed it all up.

"But if I could have just explained it at the time," Harry insisted. "I only looked because I thought there was something about me in there. Then when I looked, I only stayed because I wanted to see my dad. I was so sorry afterwards," Harry explained. "Really sorry, and I wasn't going to gossip about. I never did tell my friends what I saw. Don't you think if I told you that it would help?" Harry asked Snape.

"Yes," Snape admitted. "I think if you told _me _that it would mean a great deal," Snape paused. "However, if you tell him," Snape vaguely indicated the smoky surface of the platform. "He is liable to do you serious bodily harm."

"Come now, Severus," Albus put in. "I think you are exaggerating a bit."

"I'm not, Albus," the man assured him.

"However, if Harry remains convinced…" Albus intoned.

"Fool," Snape spat with an angry shake of the head at Harry.

A few moments later, Severus sat beside Albus, gazing into the surface of the platform at a slightly shorter Harry and an extremely enraged Snape.

"Is this an exaggeration of your actual reaction?" Albus asked in concern as he watched a jar of cockroaches explode against the stone wall of the dungeon.

"No, Albus," Snape told him crossing his arms. "Thus far it is an exact replica of my reaction.

"Dear me," the Headmaster breathed and they both leaned forward and stared into the cup, which remained impassive for the moment. Then Potter from the past began to speak and it started to vibrate ever so slightly.

"I'm ss-sorry, Professor," Harry was saying in a slightly shaky voice as he shook glass and roaches from his untidy mop of hair. "I only looked in the pensieve because I thought there might be something about me, and…"

That was as far as Harry got before Snape from the past grabbed the front of his robes and slammed him violently into the door causing him to smack his head sharply.

"Please, sir," Harry from the past brazened on. "I just want to say…"

"I have no interest in what you wish to_ say_," Snape spat menacingly, "you vile, meddlesome, inexcusable little horror!" Emphasizing his words with actions, the Potions Master from the past grabbed Harry by the upper arm and threw him bodily from the room.

That was when the wooden chalice shook once and then turned itself upside and shivered.

Albus and Severus cast a dismayed glance at the chalice before turning back to the platform. Harry from the past sat in the dungeon hallway and by turns rubbed his arm and touched his hand wincingly to the back of his head. The men on the dais could not fathom from whence the boy got the courage, but Harry stood himself up squared his thin shoulders and prepared to knock on the door he had just been thrown through.

The chalice turned as though someone held it angrily by the stem, and began to bang itself forcefully against the platform. Severus could not help but think that the cup was doing a deliberate parody of the fate that awaited the young man behind the door. The image in the platform showed Harry held fast once more by the collar of his robes, and standing in the threshold of the dungeon door, as a furious Snape of the past delivered a sound cuffing about his face and head.

"Are you sure I couldn't have talked you down?" Harry asked ruefully when he was once again sat safe and unharmed beside Albus on the floral sofa.

"I warned you, didn't I?" Severus chided, but for all that, he felt a bit sympathetic and ashamed.

"You warned me you'd kill me," Harry corrected. "I'm certain you weren't going to kill me. Though you were pretty intent on kicking my arse," the younger man admitted. "Thanks for pulling me out before whatever you had _Accio'ed_ could arrive," the young man said. When Harry of the past had finally gotten enough sense to try to get away, Snape had _Accio'ed _something from a little potions table that stood in the corner of his office. "It wasn't a knife was it?" Harry asked in sudden alarm.

"If I had wanted to kill you I'd use my wand, you silly child," said Severus who secretly hoped he had not been _Accio'ing_ a knife either. The Snape from the past _had_ been summoning something from a table that held several knifes. It also held a few heavy duty one inch by two inch wooden rulers used to measure ingredients. Perhaps he had been _Accio'ing_ one of those to give the boy a proper thrashing. The next stop at any rate would have been Albus' office where the old man would have no doubt given him a proper thrashing as well, figuratively if not literally. Even now the older wizard looked exceedingly disapproving; though both Harry and Severus assured him he had witnessed a highly embellished version of the past.

"I still say the time period I picked wasn't too late in the past to turn things around between us," Harry argued.

"No?" Snape asked raising an incredulous eyebrow.

"How could it be?" Harry insisted. "We've already done it."

"So you said," Snape quipped.

"I'll admit I definitely caught you on a bad day," Harry allowed.

Harry shifted his gaze and frowned at the cup. A hairline crack now graced it from rim to the start of the stem.

"Couldn't one of you go back," he asked trying to sound reasonable. "I'm really rubbish at this."

Severus looked a question at Albus, who pursed his lips and shook his head _no_ as he draped an affectionate arm about Harry's slumped shoulders.

"I'm afraid it is your responsibility Harry and I still have every faith in you. For you have the most amazing habit of triumphing when it counts most," the Headmaster intoned, pulling the boy close for a moment and pressing his lips to the untidy raven head.

"Well, this is certainly the definition of it counting most," Severus acknowledged curtly. "Here's what I think you should do, Potter…"

"Severus," the old man cautioned. "Harry must make a conscious choice…"

"You have got to be kidding, Albus," the Potions Master sneered and the Headmaster held up an admonishing hand.

"What do you wish to do Harry?" The old man asked looking deeply into the boy's green eyes.

Harry looked from one man to the other before he spoke and looked deeply into the blue eyes in return.

"I want to listen to what Professor Snape says, Headmaster, and this time I'm going to follow his advice to the letter."

"Good man, Harry," Albus smiled pressing another kiss to the young man's head.

Albus rose from the couch and motioned for Severus, to take his place beside Harry.

"Must you always communicate in riddles, Albus?" Snape asked irritably as he took his seat next to Harry on the couch. "Wouldn't it have worked just as well for you to tell him you wanted him to mind what I said?"

"No, Severus," Albus disagreed his eyes twinkling madly. "It would not."

"You're not the least bit concerned that we wasted the first two opportunities," Severus admonished.

"Nothing has be wasted, child," Albus explained. "Those opportunities were necessary to get us to where we are now, which is exactly where we should be," he explained with a knowing smile.

"Do not be rash," Severus was lecturing an attentive Harry as they sat together on the floral print couch, on a dais of light, in the North West corner of Limbo "Since you are going back to the beginning there is no need to rush. Just move along carefully and make the best decisions you can," he explained with uncharacteristic patience.

In order to ensure success, Snape instructed Harry to go back to the time Hagrid first collected him and as he moved forward through the past to make the changes necessary to ensure the desired outcome.

"Enough of this Gryffindor nonsense!" Snape had scolded regarding Harry's earlier attempts. "You must rely heavily on your Slytherin side if we are to achieve success."

"You mean you want me to lie to you, sir?" Harry asked for clarification. "Cuz' I think if you catch me lying to you in the past you'll…"

"Cunning, Potter!" Snape corrected sharply. "You must be astute and shrewd and above all think of the consequences before you act."

"Right. Slytherin. Cunning. Got it," Harry said nodding his head in agreement.

"Do not be reckless," Snape ordered.

"No, sir. I mean, yes, sir," Harry amended. "I mean… I'll do my best… you know?"

"Of course you will," Albus put in as it seemed Snape had finally completed his instructions. "We have every faith in you, dear boy," he assured Harry fondly. "Don't we, Severus?" Albus asked.

The Potions Master merely nodded curtly causing Albus to scold him.

"Se_ver_us?" The older wizard admonished

"We share an Occlumency link, Albus," Severus pointed out irritably. "The boy knows what I think."

"Sometimes it helps to hear it aloud, Severus…" the Headmaster chided.

"No, I'm good, sir," Harry interrupted, remembering his arrival on the dais and the warm feeling of love that had filled him, even as he wept, when Snape had pulled him into the Occlumency pathway.

"Good enough," Snape intoned, giving Harry an affectionate cuff on the back of head, and ordering him not to bugger things up.

Harry seemed very intent on not buggering things up as Albus and Severus watched from above the platform. Though he made what could have been categorized as a misstep a time or two. Nothing he did disturbed the cup much and bit by bit it filled. One of the first things he did was to shake Draco's hand when the eleven year old blond approached him and Ron that first day before the welcoming feast, but Harry still made it clear that Ron was already a good friend of his. Next he called Ron out on his biased comment regarding Slytherins and dark wizardry before the sorting. He made the red head promise they would still be friends no matter where they sorted. Weaseleys were nothing if not true to their words, and Ron kept his when Harry allowed the Hat to put him in Slytherin.

One of the early missteps was slipping away from the Slytherin prefect and his house mates to join his Gryffindor mate Ron in facing down a mountain troll in the girls' bathroom. Hermione's defense of him and Ron seemed to warm him to McGonagall. But it didn't stop his own Head of House from delivering several stinging smacks with his hand to the seat of the eleven year olds trousers as the two made their way back to the Slytherin dungeons after the incident.

"This is a bit like what happened with the pensieve, isn't?" Albus asked in concern when eleven year old Harry let out a little yelp, amid his profuse apologies, after a particularly fierce swat.

"It's nothing like it, Albus," the current Snape denied with a roll of his eyes.

At the older wizard's doubtful expression he told him to look at the cup. Indeed the goblet was filling and it never faltered once even when Harry was caught riding his broom without permission. McGonagall seemed a bit soft on him after the incident with Hermione and perhaps due to his connection to James and Lily too. She marched him down to Snape after catching him in the court yard with Neville's _remembral_ in hand amid the impressed cheers of his year mates.

"Go easy on him, Severus," McGonagall beseeched her colleague. "He was sticking up for another boy who was being tormented," she gave the Potions Master a measuring look before approaching the door to make her exit. "And if you don't sign him up as Seeker, I will," she commented before leaving. "The boy is a marvel on a broom."

Snape listened to his story regarding his defense of Neville and it led to a conversation about his burgeoning friendships with other Gryffindors.

"You don't mind do you, sir?" eleven year old Harry asked and Snape admitted that thus far he did not.

When it became clear that he miraculously was being let off with only warning, Harry seemed to gather his courage too ask a question.

"Do you think it would be all right…" the boy started. "Do you think there is a chance I might try out for our Quidditch team?"

"First years usually aren't allowed and I'm inclined to say _no,_" Snape explained.

The eleven year old couldn't quite hide his disappointed pout, which had the effect of irritating Snape a bit. The cup shivered lightly when he reminded the boy that it wasn't too late to change his mind about punishing him.

Harry immediately schooled his expression and apologized and the cup settled down. When Harry was leaving Snape's office, as though to soften his words from earlier, Snape quipped that if McGonagall would let him play Seeker on her house team, he'd give him his blessing as well.

That was how the all House Quidditch league started at Hogwarts. Since the Quidditch and House cups were two separate things it made a certain amount of sense. McGonagall loved the idea. As did the Headmaster of Harry's first year as he thought it promoted unity among the houses. Soon all the teachers were on board, including Snape, and any student could try out for any house team. It became the fashion to wear both team crests as well as house crests on uniforms. Soon the school was populated by, Gryffinclaws, Slytherpuffs, Hufflegryffs, and Ravenhuffs, and many other silly house name combinations. And Harry became the youngest Seeker at Hogwarts in a century.

"How in Merlin's name did he get me to go along with combining the Quidditch teams?" the current day Snape complained to Albus. "The cheeky little brat is wrapping me around his finger."

Albus only grinned as the cup continued to fill.

The final leg of Harry's journey through the past was traveled at Christmastime his first year. Harry had stayed in the castle for the holidays as had his friend, Ron and few other good friends from Slytherin, Draco and Blaise Zabini among them. It was several days after the holiday that his Head of House called him into his office to give the a boy gift.

"Do you know what a pensieve is, Potter?"

"Pensieve…erm…no sir," eleven year old Harry told the man.

"Well the Headmaster suggested I might open my cold heart at Christmas time and give you a gift, and I believe I have just the thing," he explained placing his wand to his temple to extract the thin wispy strand of a memory and place in the basin.

"That thing you pulled from your head is a pensieve sir?" the boy asked in seeming innocence.

"Don't be daft, Potter," Snape said without rancor. "That was a memory," he explained and tapped the basin. "This is a pensieve."

"Oh," Potter intoned.

"Stand here," Severus instructed the boy. He placed his hands on the boy's thin shoulders, and they entered the vapor together.

"Is that my dad?" the boy asked smiling wide at the image of a messy haired James Potter, all of fifteen years old playing with a snitch by the lake.

"Yes," Severus admitted. "He was in fifth year. And that's your mum, just there," Severus indicated the green eyed girl across from them. It was obvious James was trying to get her attention with his antics.

"And those are their friends?" Harry asked. The Snape of the past seemed astonished that such a little face could smile so wide. The little boy watched the scene in awe. Joy was written on his every feature. Snape only pulled the boy from the memory at the last moment as Black spoke the words that would lead to the most embarrassing memory of his life.

"Look who's here?" Black was saying just as Severus lifted Harry from the pensieve.

"Did we have to leave?" The boy asked.

"We did," the man confirmed. "A row was about to start."

"With the dark haired boy by the lake?" Harry asked his Head of House. "That was you, wasn't it?"

"It was," Snape confirmed.

"Who won?" Harry wanted to know.

Snape merely quirked an eyebrow.

"It _was_ three to one," the boy conceded.

Snape grunted non-commitally.

"Thank you for showing me," the boy said.

"I thought it might be nice for you to have at least one pleasant memory of your parents."

"It is," the boy agreed with a brilliant smile. "Happy Christmas, sir."

"Happy Christmas, Mr. Potter," Severus answered with a small smile of his own.

888

"I think we can bring him back now, Severus," Albus told the current day Snape.

"But why, Albus?" The man asked, shifting his gaze to the center of the platform. "The cup…" he began, his eyes growing wide.

"Yes, child," Albus agreed his eyes shining with tears of joy. "It runneth over."

"He did it," Severus breathed looking at the cup in awe.

"You both did, child," Albus corrected. "You both did."

888

First, seventeen year old Harry and Severus drank their fill, a full cup each at Albus' insistence, despite his earlier assurance that one shared cup between them should suffice. Then the two men took turns nourishing their Headmaster from the cup of love and life. They bid him drink until he was drowsy with it and the thin old man seemed filled tight to bursting. Still they pressed the wooden chalice to his thin lips and bid him drink yet more. Soon Albus was whining a bit at the delicious pain that came with such a rapid onslaught of love. It was reminding Harry a bit too much of his night with the Headmaster in the cave, when he had made Harry force the potion upon him. He told Snape as much as he took Dumbledore's hand and offered what small comfort he could.

"That particular potion was designed," Snape explained "to make the victim feel the pain they have caused others, and experience great weakness as a result. I _was_ fairly certain Albus would ingest it rather than have you do so. However, I admit I had hoped you would feel a bit of what I felt when you snooped in that damn pensieve. And if Albus should have taken the potion in your stead," Snape raised a brow. "Well, there were a few things I didn't mind him realizing either."

Harry's look grew rather pained at the notion of that. He held the Headmaster's hand a bit tighter as his moaning grew a bit more coherent.

"I am not a kind man," Snape quietly explained with a bit of a self deprecating sneer. His actions contradicted his words however. Harry watched with a kind of stunned awe as the Potions Master coaxed the old man to drink a bit more. He gently rubbed Albus' tight old belly and the old man whimpered softly, beseeching him to leave off. Finally, the dark withering of the Headmaster's ruined arm began to recede.

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Quite suddenly and without any notion as to how they had gotten there Harry and Severus found themselves walking through the hall at Hogwarts from the general direction of the Gryffindor tower to the Great Hall. Severus was holding Harry's arm as though he had been tugging him along. He stopped short and released the young man. Severus glanced down at his crisp teaching robes and took a moment to examine the tightly rolled scroll of parchment in his hands. He furrowed his brow slightly as he rolled the thing up again, and at Harry's questioning look he responded.

"Lesson plans," he explained, "apparently for the first day of term after Christmas holidays."

"That would make this…" Harry began looking down at his own clothing, complete with Slytherin green tie and scarf.

"Your seventh year, I believe," Snape supplied.

"Bloody hell!" Harry exclaimed noticing the Slytherin patch on his left shoulder. "I'm Head Boy!" he said in awe, "and Quidditch captain too!" he enthused, noticing the patch on his right.

"Of the Gryffindor team," Snape sneered as he examined the Griffin and Snake patch as two Gryffindor third years passed the pair with a nod.

"You should have let me play for Slytherin when I asked," Harry suggested and gave Snape an impish grin.

"I _should_ have paddled your impetuous little arse," Snape opined in response.

"Wait, I'm recalling something," Harry explained crinkling his nose and putting up a hand. "The memories are funny. They sort of layer over one another. We have a game this Saturday, against Slytherin, I think," the boy smiled brightly.

"Saturday, you say?" Snape asked doubtfully. "I'm quite certain you are restricted to your quarters that day, Potter," Snape declared.

"Restricted to my--?" Harry asked dumbly. "What for?"

"Which reminds," Snape said instead of answering. "I'll take your wand as well," he ordered holding out one hand.

"My w-wand, sir?" Harry questioned tentatively as he slowly reached toward his pocket where he kept it.

"Yes," Snape intoned. "You will recall that was to be the penalty if I caught you using an Unforgivable curse again."

"Oh…yeah…" Harry responded a bit sullenly as he slowly handed the thing over.

888

As they continued on their way to the Great Hall and Harry kept fussing with the pocket where his wand normally lived, he began to feel more than a little peeved.

"Is the Headmaster here do you reckon?" He asked, trying to keep the sullen tone out of his voice.

"Why," Snape asked with a hint of snide. "Do you wish to protest your punishment to him?"

"No," Harry glowered. "But I'll need my wand for some of my classes, won't I?" he asked, his tone growing surly.

"I shall request that you be allowed to make up any missing work this Saturday. Hence the reason you will be staying in that day," Snape explained helpfully.

Harry seethed for a moment; it all seemed terribly unfair, given the way things had turned out in the end and the fact that he had been battling such darkness at the time. Harry felt a vague echo of that darkness as he responded impertinently.

"Well I suppose that is more than an adequate punishment," he muttered "for casting the curse against _you_."

Harry knew the words were way out of line before they fully left his mouth. More than that, it was a nasty, terrible, _dark_ thing to say.

When Snape who was walking a few paces ahead stopped and glared, the young man gulped.

"Merlin," he said apologetically. "Did I really just say that?"

"You did," Snape confirmed as he resumed walking. "And I suppose lines _are_ in order as well. Additionally," he continued blandly, "it has been quite sometime since you have had an encounter with William. As I recall, and my memories are returning in a rather odd fashion as well, your last such lesson was due to an incident during your third year involving Mrs. Norris and a can of Muggle shaving cream." Snape's voice took on a warning edge.

His Head of House's tone, along with the resurfacing of similar memories involving William did a great deal to dispel the vague shadow of darkness before it could take any sort of a hold.

"I do generally try to resist using William with the upper grades," he continued, "especially the seventh years. They tend to get rather churlish about it," Snape explained as though discussing the rules of safe potion making. "I'm certain I have never found a use for William with anyone responsible enough to advance to _Head Boy… _but you, Potter," he said stopping in front of the doors to the Great Hall, "have always been a very special case."

"No. I'm not special," Harry denied with an emphatic shake of his head, all thoughts of darkness gone. "I'm ordinary, remember? The Headmaster said so. Just ordinary Harry."

"I believe I said you were above average," the Headmaster reminded as he appeared behind the two younger men his blue eyes twinkling madly.

"Albus!" Snape greeted in a pleased tone at the same time Harry squealed, "Headmaster!"

"Well done, my boys," he praised as he entered the Hall ahead of them. "Well done indeed," he called over his shoulder as he made his way to the head table greeting his students as he went.

Harry and Severus watched the old man's back with twin smiles of relief and gratitude. After a moment they looked back at each other once more.

"So lines and restricting you from using your wand shall be sufficient, you think?" Snape questioned Harry casually. "You don't believe you need further intervention to fully understand the magnitude of your actions?"

"No, sir," Harry said quickly. "I already do under…look that was a very nasty comment I made, I'm really sorry all right?" Harry explained sincerely.

"Good, then," Snape intoned after a moment. "_I am a servant of the light_. 100 times, every night this week, due before curfew," he ordered

Harry stopped short and gave him a troubled look as though the words caused him pain. _I'm fairly certain I'm not a servant of the light, if I ever was one,_ he thought bitterly.

"But of course you are, you silly child," Snape explained irritably as he picked up the thought. "Who but a true servant of the light would the Universe so diligently and doggedly temp with darkness?"

"But I didn't win," Harry complained doubtfully.

"Didn't you?" Snape asked with silky menace as he brandished the tightly rolled parchment above the young man's head.

Harry eyed the parchment warily as he considered how things had turned out in the end.

"Yes, sir," he finally answered, "I reckon I did."

"Good," the man agreed and he let the parchment fall lightly, barely taping the young man's head.

Harry wanted to ask what he should do if the temptation got too much again, but somehow couldn't bring himself to do so just then. If the facetious threat of a hiding could chase it away at this point, he probably wasn't that bad off. Harry watched for a moment as Snape made his way to the teacher's table, swishing and sneering at the assembled students as he went, and Harry had to hold back a laugh.

"Well you don't look any worse for wear," Hermione commented as she entered the door behind him followed by the school prefects.

Harry noticed that her arm sported a Head Girl badge similar to his.

"Snape looked like he was going to skin you when he ordered you from our meeting with the prefects up in Gryffindor tower a bit ago," she stated.

"He did?" Harry asked in confusion, trying to access the memory of being ordered from a meeting with Hermione and the prefects.

"You didn't get in trouble?" Hermione asked. "It sure looked it like you were in for a good telling off."

"I did get in trouble actually," Harry admitted. "A lot. I'm grounded Saturday, he confiscated my _wand_, and I have lines."

"Wow, Harry," Hermione said disapprovingly. "Whatever did you do to get in such trouble over the Christmas hols?"

"Actually, I'm being punished for something I did last summer," Harry explained.

"Last summer?" Hermione asked incredulously. "You wouldn't think there wouldn't be anything he would dare punish you for after what you accomplished last summer."

"What did I accomplish last summer?" Harry wanted to know.

"What…Harry, you're joking right?" Hermione giggled. "You didn't accomplish anything I suppose if you don't count getting rid of Voldemort."

Harry caught a vague memory of himself facing down Voldemort in a stone chamber with no wand in sight, but with waves of emotion he was using to attack his mind. Harry had a sense that he was using the _Amor de Todo_ technique and there was a flickering image Riddle as a small, somber child. Snape was in the chamber as well, Harry remembered, and he cast an _incendio_ that caused something to explode in a wave of silver flame.

"What could he have discovered about last summer that got you in such trouble?" Hermione was asking as she moved into the Hall toward the Gryffindor table.

"Well, he_ is_ a bit of a hard arse," Harry pointed out, "and a stickler for details as well."

"I guess it makes sense that he'd be a bit harder on you," Hermione pointed out.

"Why?" Harry asked in a difficult tone.

"Oh come on, Harry!" She scolded. "Who have you been spending your Christmas hols with since second year. Not to mention part of every summer at that lovely cottage in Ireland. It just makes sense is all. Snape's been more of a father to you than a Head of House."

As Harry took that in he turned toward the head table and caught Snape's eye, and the man raised one dark brow in response. Whether it was in question or amusement Harry couldn't tell from the distance, but it made him smile, and Snape gave him one of his half smiles in return. They'd defeated Voldemort together and apparently Snape had become something of a father to him. Harry was more than fine with that. He briefly pondered the fact that it seemed as though some alternate Harry had been able to succeed and find a bit of contentment where the original Harry had not. Then again perhaps he'd just been given an opportunity to become the Harry he was always meant to be. Before he could ponder it further, Dumbledore stood up.

"Would everyone please take their seats?" the Headmaster requested loudly.

"Do you want to sit here, Harry?" Hermione asked making room beside her. "Or at your House or the Quidditch table?" she asked, indicating a round table a little ways down.

At it sat Ron, Ginny and Draco among others. Harry couldn't help noticing they wore twin crests as he did. He shot them a friendly nod before sitting down beside Hermione. The Headmaster cleared his throat. Harry couldn't help but feel the old man should say something important, after so very much had gone on. But instead Dumbledore clapped his pale hands once as he gazed out at the assembled students.

And with a mad twinkle in his eye he simply said, "Tuck in."

**_T_****_he End_**

**Author's Notes: **I guess this is the end. Thanks to those of you who have supported this fic through a year and a half of sporadic updates. Thanks also to those who joined later, and flattered me by reading the whole thing in one go. I have enjoyed your responses tremendously and will miss them now that they will be ending for a while. I'm actually going to be working on a bit of my own original fiction till July, so wish me luck with that. Again thanks so much for all your support of this fic.

In this chapter, Snape's complaint about Harry having to do everything alone and the mention of the_ Albus'_ _Almanac for Above Average Wizards_ is a bit of a nod to Kirinin's **The Secret of** **Slytherin** and Snape's quip about Harry's Wizard Hero Training. If you haven't already read **SoS**, you should definitely do so. It is very well written and by turns funny and thought provoking. The fic manages to reshape the paradigms of good and evil simply by letting enemies share space together. Whether it be Draco and Harry or Godric and Salazar, by the end, Light is Dark and Dark is Light and we wonder what all the fuss was about in the first place. This wonderful fic can be found here on ffdotnet as well as Potions and Snitches, and I highly recommend it.

I also stole a bit from my Happy Christmas Mr. Potter for the Christmas pensieve scene.

**Thanks very much for reading along. I hope you enjoyed it. Don't forget to review. It might inspire a faster sequel complete with Slytherin Harry and his Huffleclaw, and Ravengryff buddies. Thanks again for your support of this fic. It has been a truly wonderful journey and I appreciate those of you who were along for the ride.**

**Happy Trails,**

**Delaine **


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